Fortune Favors the Brave
by Ayla505x
Summary: "I, Rusty Firenze, accept your offer! I will join ThunderClan, in turn gaining the freedom I have sought!"  What if Into the Wild was retold... with humans instead of cats? AU, All Human
1. Prologue

A half-moon glowed on smooth granite boulders, turning them silver. The silence was broken only by the ripple of water from the swift black river and the whisper of trees in the forest beyond.

There was a stirring in the shadows, and from all around lithe dark shapes crept stealthily over the rocks. Unsheathed knives glinted in the moonlight. Wary eyes flashed like amber. And then, as if on a silent signal, the shapes leaped at each other, and suddenly the rocks were alive with the blood-curdling cries of battle.

At the center of the frenzy of knives, spears, and bows, a brown-haired man pinned a smaller man to the ground. He drew his head up triumphantly, his grip tightening on the smaller warrior's shoulders. "Oakheart!" his voice came out as a ragged snarl. "How dare you hunt in our territory? The Sunningrocks belong to ThunderClan!"

"After tonight, Tigerclaw," Oakheart smirked, his red-brown bangs falling over his eyes. "This will be just another RiverClan hunting ground!"

The sudden blaring of war drums echoed over the battle ground. "Look out! More RiverClan warriors are coming!" the cry, shrill and anxious, rose from the battle.

Tigerclaw turned to see sleek, dripping bodies sliding out of the water below the rocks. The drenched RiverClan warriors bounded silently up the shore, weapons raised high as they charged into the fray.

Teeth clenched, Tigerclaw glared down at Oakheart. "You may swim like otters, but you and your warriors do not belong in this forest!" he dug his nails into Oakheart's shoulders as he struggled beneath him.

The desperate scream of a ThunderClan woman rose above the clamor. A wiry RiverClan man had a knife at the brown-haired warrior's throat, all the while pinning her back against a tree.

Tigerclaw heard the cry and let go of Oakheart. Grabbing his fallen spear, he leapt to his feet and turned, bounding quickly over the slippery stones. He rammed his shoulder into the enemy warrior's, knocking him away from the woman. "Quick, Mousefur, run!" he ordered, before turning on the RiverClan man who had threatened her. Mousefur nodded hurriedly, one hand clutching at a deep wound on her shoulder, and raced away into the woods.

Behind her, Tigerclaw spat with rage as the RiverClan man raised his knife and sliced open the bridge of his nose. Blood blinded him for a second, turning the scene around him a ghastly shade of red. He lunged forward regardless, his spear driving deep into the enemy warrior's leg. The RiverClan man cried out and fell back, his eyes brimming with fear.

"Tigerclaw!" The cry came from a brown-haired man with a red ponytail. He dodged the fevered attacks of enemy warriors, his knife deflecting jab after jab deftly. "This is useless! There are too many RiverClan warriors!"

"No, Redtail. ThunderClan will never be beaten!" Tigerclaw screamed back, sliding to Redtail's side. "This is our territory!" Blood welled over the bridge of his nose, and he shook his head impatiently, scattering scarlet drops onto the rocks.

"ThunderClan will honor your courage, Tigerclaw, but we cannot afford to lose anymore of our warriors," Redtail urged. "Bluestar would never expect her warriors to fight against these impossible odds. We will have another chance to avenge this defeat." He met Tigerclaw's blazing amber gaze steadily, then reared away and leaped nimbly atop a boulder at the edge of the trees.

"Retreat, ThunderClan! Retreat!" he yelled. At once his warriors fell and struggled away from their opponents. Spitting and glaring, they backed toward Redtail. For a heartbeat, the RiverClan warriors looked confused. Was this battle so easily won? Then Oakheart yowled a jubilant cry. As soon as they heard him, the RiverClan warriors raised their voices and joined their deputy in screaming their victory.

* * *

In a deserted clearing, atop a jagged gray boulder, a single woman sat alone, staring up at the clear night sky. Around her, she could hear the cackling of bats as they hunted tiny insects and the quiet drone of a woodpecker as is pounded away at a maple stump.

A small dark-haired girl emerged from a dark corner, her footsteps quick and soundless as she closed the distance between them.

The woman turned her head slightly, eyes softening as she saw the girl. "How is Mousefur?" she asked quietly.

"Her wounds are deep, Bluestar," answered the girl, settling down beside her on the night-cool stone. "But she is young and strong; she will heal quickly."

"And the others?"

"They will all recover, too."

Bluestar sighed. "We are lucky not to have lost any of our warriors this time. You are a gifted healer, Spottedleaf." She tilted her head again and studied the stars. "I am deeply troubled by tonight's defeat. ThunderClan has not been beaten in its own territory since I became leader," she murmured. "These are difficult times for our Clan. The season of newleaf is late, and there have been fewer children. ThunderClan needs more warriors if it is to survive."

"But the year is only just beginnig," Spottedleaf pointed out calmly. "There will be more children when greenleaf comes."

The gray-haired woman twitched her broad shoulders. "Perhaps. But training our young to become warriors takes time. If ThunderClan is to defend its territory, it must have new warriors as soon as possible."

"Are you asking StarClan for answers?" asked Spottedleaf gently, following Bluestar's gaze and staring up at the swath of stars glittering in the night sky.

"It is at times like this that we need the words of ancient warriors to guide us. Has StarClan spoken to you?" Bluestar asked, turning her electric blue gaze to the young woman.

"Not for some moons, Bluestar."

Suddenly, a shooting star blazed over the treetops. The world suddenly flooded with white light as Spottedleaf watching. Blood-red flames rose around her, bathing her in their toxic light, scorching her clothes as she struggled away from the flames. Her bright amber gaze traveled upwards and lay on a young boy, his back to her. The boy turned slowly, the smallest trace of a smile lacing over his handsome face, before he was swallowed up by the flames.

Bluestar watched, but remained silent as Spottedleaf continued to gaze upward.

After a few moments, Spottedleaf lowered her head and turned to Bluestar. "It was a message from StarClan." Her voice was weak, and the distant look in her eyes was unreadable. "Fire alone can save our Clan."

"Fire?" Bluestar echoed, disbelief clouding her gaze. "Fire is but a tool for cooking food. How can it save us?"

"But," Spottedleaf whispered, closing her eyes. "If fire gets free, it is wild and powerful. You know that."

"Yes, but..."

Spottedleaf shook her head. "I do not know." she admitted. "But this is the message StarClan has chosen to share with me."

The ThunderClan leader fixed her clear blue eyes on the healer. "You have never been wrong before, Spottedleaf." she murmured. "If StarClan has spoken, then it must be so. Fire will save our Clan."

* * *

**Alright, this is the prolouge of my new fanfiction. X3 So, as you can tell, this will be the same story, but what would have happened if it was humans instead of cats. This is the same story, but I'm changing many things about it, including the Clan's laws, customs, and diet. However, I'm not changing names, and you'll figure out why later in the story.**

**I don't like this chapter, because it's pretty much copying the book word-for-word, except the human parts, of course. But the rest of the chapters won't be like this.**

**Review!**


	2. Chapter 1: His Name is Rusty

Whispers, so quiet, so gentle, so ancient. They held within them words of a life to come, of a life past, of wisdom learned and wisdom lost.

Shattered.

Like bits of glass.

The whispers were shattered.

Glass.

Not glass. Ice. Freezing, chilling ice. Overtaking, burning, intoxicating.

Warmth.

Fire.

Warmth.

Yes. This place... this place was warm.

So warm.

_I'm confused._

It seemed like such a silly, irrelevent thought. But it was so true.

The scene changed. Dramatically, like a slap in the face, it shifted. Everything took shape, shadows melded into towering trees, light spread over the bright blue skies. Clouds drifted lazily through the sapphire expanse, like fluffy rabbit tails. The ground underfoot was soft and yeilding, smelling of a fresh new year.

Rusty stood in the center of it all.

He raised his hand. Shadows bent toward him, reaching for him. He put his hand down. The shadows melded back into place.

"What is this place?" his voice echoed back to him, ringing persistently in his ears. He took a single step forward. The ground held beneath him, and when he stepped away, there was no mark.

Frowning, the boy looked up at the dense canopy of trees. He could hear nothing, no birdsong, no sounds of activity.

"Hello?" he called, wincing as his voice blasted back in his ears. He stepped forward again, one step, two steps. Then he was running, racing through the silent woods, his hair whipping behind him, blood pounding in his ears.

The whispers were calling to him.

* * *

"Rusty! Get down here, boy! Dinner's read!"

Rusty's eyes snapped open and flitted about the room wildely, fear seizing his heart and a cold sweat beaded on his forehead. The faint whispers still rang in his ears, though they dulled rapidly as he slowly came to his senses. A low groan escaping his lips, he sat up slowly and peered out the window overlooking his bed. The forest seemed to glow in the radiant silver of the moonlight, and at once he felt the cold hand grip his heart again.

"Rusty, hurry up! Your chicken will get cold."

Heaving a sigh, the boy swung his legs over the side of the bed and dropped to the ground. He turned slightly, facing the mirror propped up against one wall. Rusty grimaced at his bedraggled, ruffled appearence. School had been so exhausting lately that he took naps everyday afterwards. Buttoning up his green polo shirt and straightening his jeans, he slowly began to make his way out of the room. Following the dark hallway to the stairs, he placed put one hand on the handrail and walked down.

"There you are. Come on. Your siblings are already eating." his stepmother, Quince, peered around the corner and smiled at him. Her dark gray hair was neat as usual, her dark yellow eyes bright. "And fix your hair, boy." she chided lightly, ruffling his short orange hair as he walked up to her.

Running his fingers through his short, coarse hair, Rusty rounded the corner into the kitchen. The smooth tiles were cold on his bare feet, though the scent of the chicken was so tantalizing he could not ignore it. His older stepbrothers and stepsister already sat at the table, tearing ravenously at the food. Smiling, Rusty pulled his chair out and sat down, biting immediately into the chicken.

"So, Ruby," Quince said from behind the counter as she scrubbed clean the pot used for the chicken. "how was play rehearsal today?"

Ruby, the oldest of his three siblings, looked the most like Quince, though her identical gray hair was longer. She seemed distracted by her meal, not particularly interested in the question. "Hm? Oh, fine." she was in her sophmore year, verging on sixteen years old.

Quince looked at the second oldest, Socrates. His black-and-white hair was rather long, hanging in tassles in front of his eyes. "Socrates, what about you? Did your soccer practice go well?"

Socrates' only reply was a low grunt, followed by a loud belch.

Sighing wearily, Quince then turned her attention to the youngest of Rusty's stepsiblings, Tinaken. He was a tiny, pale boy, with jet-black hair and unnerving ice-blue eyes. He wore one white glove on his left hand. Everyone called him Tiny, though he despised it. "Tinaken, how was school today?"

Tinaken turned his head, achingly slowly. He was twelve years old, and in middle school. "Same as always." his voice was eerily high-pitched, making the hair on the back of Rusty's neck stand on end. "Brick, Bone, and I went to the old alley after school." a spark of dark satisfaction flashed in his eyes, and Rusty flinched. "There was a guy there. Really ragged looking. We... showed him the way to a better place."

Nobody seemed to sense the underlying meaning of Tinaken's words. Quince just shook her head. "Tinaken, I wish you wouldn't call your friends by such grotesque names. They sound like ruffians."

"They are." he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Rusty frowned, looking down at his own plate. He'd met Tinaken's friends several times before; they called him Scourge, and all wore strange necklaces that looked as though they were studded with claws. When he'd told Quince that, however, she'd just laughed and told him he took after his father. Always so full of imagination and fantasies.

Rusty was distraced from his thoughts by his mother's voice. "Rusty, I asked you how school was." "Oh... sorry. It was fine." Rusty had, since a very young age, been deemed an acceptionally capable student. In fact, at the age of eight, he was already in the fourth grade; as a result, he often found himself being picked on by the older children. He's never been bothered by it, however. It was just another part of life.

"Really, Rusty, could we get something out of _you, _at least?"

"Sorry, nothing interesting happened." The young boy stood up quickly, picking up his plate and placing it on the counter for his mother.

"Where are you going now?" Quince asked, looking at her adopted son with concern. She knew her son was the anti-social type; he'd always been so mature for his age, he never seemed to fit in with other kids.

"Outside for awhile." Rusty muttered, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he approached the back door.

"Don't stay out long! It'll be dark soon. And no going into the forest."

"Yeah, yeah," the fire-haired boy grumbled turning the knob and stepping out into the backyard. He was immediately met with the heavy, sweet scent of spring. A small, serene smile spreading over his lips, he closed the door behind him. With a running start, he launched himself up, his fingers scrabbling at the rough texture of the wooden fence. He hefted himself up onto the wide top, crouching in a cat-like stance as he gazed out at the emerald depths of the woods.

"Hey there, Rusty!" The boy nearly fell off the fence as the round face of a neighborhood boy peered around the corner of the fence. Rusty smiled, leaping down in front of his friend. "Hello, Smudge."

Smudge, as the boy was nicknamed, was a baby-faced, slightly chubby boy with white hair that was smudged through with black. His wide green eyes always seemed to be laughing, his pudgy face always split into a friendly grin.

"Whatcha doin'?" Smudge asked, leaning forward curiously as Rusty stared distantly into the forest. "Huh?" the boy blinked, then smiled. "Nothing... sorry. Just been thinking."

"About your dad?"

The words caught Rusty off gaurd. Immediately, his hand flew to his neck and clutched at the necklace that glittered there. Small, simple, adorned with a single silver lightning bolt. His other fist clenching and unclenching, he didn't meet Smudge's gaze. "What do you care?"

"Well, you always go out to the forest when you're thinking of him. His name was Jake, right? I've heard so many stories about him! He was like a legend! He had so many adventures in the woods, hunting bears and deer and climbing a giant sycamore, whatever that is."

"Shut up!" Rusty hissed, lunging forward and grabbing the boy by the collar of his shirt. "just shut up, alright?" He pushed him away, ignoring the bewildered expression on his friend's face. Without another word, the orange-haired boy turned and ran, the wind in his air, the forest in sight.

The voices were calling to him again.

* * *

**Aight, we gotz another chapter up here! Yay!**

***is shot***

**Coughcough.**

**So... yus. I feel compelled to tell you that this was really fun to write. xD**

**Yeah. Click that sexy little button down there, m'kay? I WANT CHUR WORTHLESS OPINION.**

**Noreally.**


	3. Chapter 2: The Mist Clears

The ground was fresh and yielding beneath his shoes. The thick aroma of new life swirled around his head, making him feel dizzy as he ran.

Rusty felt alive. He felt unafraid. He felt free.

Branches whipped at his clothes, snagged in his hair, crackled beneath his feet. Leaves brushed against his face, as though welcoming him, pulling him in...

Suddenly, his foot snagged on a root. With a startled gasp, he sailed forward, his hands hitting the dry earth heavily. On his hands and knees, he stayed there, breathing heavily until his heart slowed again.

_He was like a legend!_

Father...

Rusty shook his head violently, hands fisting in the grass.

_He had so many adventures._

Sitting up, the young boy stared blankly into the darkened forest. Night was falling, casting black shadows over the world. He'd never been out at night before.

Rusty stood, stepping forward on weak legs. He dimly recalled his mother's warning. He should be getting back.

But right now... he just didn't want to go back.

Icy tendrils seemed to suddenly weave their way over his heart. He stopped in his tracks, emerald eyes widening and blood roaring in his ears. All he could hear was the soft rustling of wind through the trees.

He turned his head, ever so slowly, to look behind him. The night was still as death. Not even the wind could be heard any longer.

"Looking for someone, kittypet?"

Rusty didn't flinch, even as he felt the cold metal of a dagger press against his throat. His heartbeat slowed drastically as his gaze followed up the tanned arm that now threatened his life. He daren't move, for fear of the knife slitting his neck, and so could only see up to his attacker's shoulder. "Who are you?" he asked, proud to hear his voice ringing steady.

"You don't need to know," the voice was youthful, robust and confident. "Just tell me what you're doing on my territory."

"Your territory?" Rusty didn't say anything for a long moment, processing the stranger's words. "...Do you plan to kill me?" He said at last, his voice void of emotion.

"Not if you cooperate," came the soft reply.

Neither party spoke, and the stranger's grasp tightened on the knife.

"Fine, then." Rusty growled.

"What do you want with us?"

"I don't know who 'us' is."

"Don't play dumb. We've seen you spying on us. The way you sit on that fence, staring out into the woods. How are you able to see us? Aren't you a human?"

"Aren't you?" Rusty retorted, annoyed. "Look, I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"Nice try." The blade was nipping at Rusty's skin now, and he swallowed thickly.

"I'll give you one more chance. Tell me... who are you, and what are you? Why are you spying on us, and why can you see us in the first place?"

The boy took in a deep breath. He didn't know who, or what, this stranger was, only knew he wouldn't be giving into his threats any time soon. So he reeled around, a smirk lacing over his lips as he felt his elbow connect with the stomach of his attacker.

The other boy fell back, his knife clanking harmlessly to the ground. "Now you're asking for it, kittypet."

Rusty hardly had time to react before the stranger lunged forward, his shoulder ramming against his chest. Rusty rolled away before he fell to the ground, but before he could stand upright, another blow came, this time from the side.

"Not so tough now, huh?" at some point, the stranger had retreived his knife. Pinning the smaller boy to the ground, he held the knife to his neck again. "You gonna answer me, now?"

"Not a chance!" Rusty barelled himself forward, thrusting his attacker away from him. The two rolled, grappling for a hit on the other. The knife sliced lightly over Rusty's hand, then again over the other boy's cheek as they fought for control over the only weapon they had.

The skirmish ended when the two boys broke apart, rolling away from eachother and leaving the knife between them. Breathing hard, Rusty looked up, and got his first good look at his opponent.

Standing now in a solitary patch of moonlight, the boy looked down at Rusty with a thoughtful expression on his cheerful, bright face. Shaggy dark gray hair fell untidely in front of bright golden eyes, contrasting exotically with his deeply tanned skin. He wore simple clothes, dark brown, loose-fitting pants and a matching t-shirt.

The boy grinned, wiping away blood that trickled from his cheek. "Hey, you fight pretty well, kittypet."

Rusty didn't answer, entranced as he was by the most bizzare aspects of the stranger's appearence.

Two well-proportioned, cat-like ears perched on top of the boy's head, protruding ever-so-naturally from his hair.

"Wh-what are those...?" Rusty gasped, standing up shakily.

"Huh? What are what?" The gray-haired boy asked, turning to look behind him.

"Oh my god!" Rusty covered his mouth with one hand, staring at the long, shaggy-furred tail that waved casually from his pants.

"Oh, right!" The boy laughed, turning back around. "These probably look pretty weird to you." He pointed to the strange ears before crouching down into a catlike position. He tilted his head to the side, looking intently at Rusty's own ears. "So, how can you hear with those little things?"

"What are you?" Rusty asked, ignoring the stranger's question. "Why do you have ears and a tail?"

"I'm a neko, stupid." the boy rolled his eyes, as though this should be obvious. "All of us here are."

"All... all of you? There are more?"

"Of course. Four Clans full."

Rusty suddenly felt very dizzy. He sat down, rubbing his temples in an attempt to digest this information. "So... you're telling me there are four Clans of you... 'neko' things... And humans are completely unable to see them?" That was just unimaginable. Sure, the forest was massive- most of it was unexplored, in fact. But there was no way these creatures could go unnoticed.

"Yup, yup. My name's Graypaw, by the way."

"Gray... 'paw'?"

"Yeah. I'm an apprentice, which means I'm in training to be a warrior. I'm from ThunderClan. Oh, yeah, that reminds me, why do you wear our crest?"

"Your crest?" Rusty blinked as he licked the blood from his hand. "What's your crest?"

"That lightningbolt you wear on your necklace."

Again, Rusty's hand found its way to his necklace, and he clutched the little charm. Eyes narrowed, he turned his face away from Graypaw. "It's not a crest. It's a gift from my father."

"Really? 'Cause it looks exactly like the ones our warriors wear-"

"Who is this young man, Graypaw-kun?"

Rusty blinked once, and suddenly, a man stood at Graypaw's side. Tall, proud, with golden hair that fell around his face like a lion's mine. His ears were small and rounded compared to Graypaw's, though his tail was much bushier.

"Lionheart-sensei!" Graypaw gasped, wheeling around. "I... uh... he's just a kittypet! I was chasing him out, but he fought really well, and..."

"And you were curious about that necklace." Another shape suddenly materialized opposite of the one called Lionheart. An old, broad-shouldered woman with blue-gray hair swept back into an elegant bun, and electric-blue eyes that glittered like ice. The ears atop her head were tall and pointed, her tail long and slender.

"Bluestar-sama!" Now Graypaw appeared possitively frightened. He stepped back until he and Rusty were standing shoulder-to-shoulder. "Who're they?" Rusty asked in a hushed voice. "The man is my mentor, Lionheart. He's training me to be a warrior. And the woman is Bluestar... she's the leader of my Clan."

Looking again at the tall, proud woman, he noticed for the first time the intricate design woven into the fabric of her fawn-brown kimono. The man, Lionheart, wore a simple dark green muscle shirt, and Rusty noticed with a jolt the necklace he wore.

It was exactly like his.

Bluestar frowned, her luminous gaze traveling to the orange-haired boy. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the silver lightning bolt that adorned his necklace. "Boy, step forward."

Gulping, Rusty took a cautious step, the sound of his footfall seeming to echo around him.

"What is your name?" The elderly leader stepped forward as well, her catlike gait moving her silently over the grass.

"Rusty Firenze." Rusty answered, bowing his head.

A flicker of surprise, too brief for either of the boys to notice, flashed in her eyes. Lionheart caught her gaze for a quick second, and he nodded. With a sigh, Bluestar rolled her eyes. "Oi, can we stop with this whole I'm-a-dignified-leader-thing? It's getting boring."

Rusty blinked as he raised his head, looking at the old woman that now appeared to be pouting, her arms crossed over her chest.

Lionheart grimaced, looking off into the woods. "Bluestar-sama, you know it's proper conduct to address-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know!" Bluestar muttered, her ears twitching in annoyance.

Rusty exchanged a glance with Graypaw, who just grinned and shrugged.

"Alright, boy, let's get down to business." Yawning, the woman shrugged off her authentic-looking kimono, revealing the athletic-type outfit she wore underneath. Draping the gown over her shoulder, she grinned at Rusty. "Why're you here, boy? You're a human, aren't you?"

"Um... well... I..." Unconciously, his hand sought the little lightning bolt. "I just... come here when I feel stressed."

Bluestar rolled her eyes again and poked the boy between the eyes with one long, skinny finger. "Not what I mean, baka. Why can you see us? Hmm?" Her blue-furred tail twitched as she spoke. "Do you usually see people like us?"

"No, I don't." Rusty muttered, not bothering to ask what a 'baka' was. Nothing really made sense at the moment. "Graypaw's the first one I've seen."

"But you've always been able to feel our prescence."

The wind that whispered through the trees filled the silence that followed.

"Yeah. I guess so." Rusty muttered, after a long moment. "I've... always felt something."

"Alright, that's good enough for me!" Bluestar clapped once, looking at Lionheart. "Oi, Lionheart-kun! Bring Whitestorm-chan over here tomorrow to pick this little brat up."

"What do you mean?" Lionheart asked, his amber eyes flashing with confusion.

"I mean the kid's joining the Clan. Duh. You got that?" The old woman turned again to look at a dumbfounded Rusty. "You're coming with us, baka. Tommorow at noon, 'kay?"

"But... I can't just leave, I-"

"Seeya, kid!"

Rusty raised his arms against a gust of wind that suddenly whipped at his clothes. When the torrent ended, Rusty lowered his arms, finding the strange were-cats were gone.

* * *

**MWAHAHAHAHAHAH I'M SO FRIKIN EVIL.**

**Wow. I'm gonna get so many lovely flaaaaaaames.**

**Yeah. They're Japanese neko-crazy-kitty-things. 'Cause I said so.**

**And Bluestar's all... wow. I don't even know why.**

**On a different note! The fifth was my birthday. X3 I'm finally thirteen! Yaaaaay! *dance***

**Coughcough.**

**My lovely reviewers for the last couple chapters: Jokegirl, Krayyn. Thank yuuuuu!**

**As always, constructive critisim is welcome, m'kay? **

**Review, mah kittehs!**


	4. Chapter 3: I'm Ready

**Random Character Info Box**

**Name: Bluestar**

**Species: Neko**

**Birthday: June 12**

**Age: 61**

**Gender: Female**

**Height: 156 cm (5'2")**

**Weight: 69 kg (152 lbs)**

**Affiliation: ThunderClan**

**Occupation: Leader**

**Known Family: Whitestorm, her nephew, who she affectionantely refers to as 'Whitey-chan'.**

**Appearence: Bluestar is a peach-skinned woman with narrow ice-blue eyes and long blue-gray hair, streaked with silver, which is usually pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looks younger than she is, a fact that she addresses whenever being called 'old' by younger folks. She has a narrow jawline, thin lips, high cheekbones, and a slender build that proves to be much more powerful than her appearance would suggest. Her ears are tall and pointed, and often rotate at the slightest noise. Her tail is long, slender, and tipped with silver.**

**Attire: Her standard attire consists of a backless, black sleeveless undershirt, an orange over-shirt with two white straps on each shoulder, a large beige sash around her waist, black stretch pants and long beige wrist warmers, secured by bands, and long beige leg warmers with brown light shoes, allowing for stealth and speed. Because she excels in stealth-type attacks, her weapons of choice are a collection of small daggers she keeps in a holster on her left leg.**

**Personality: Bluestar is intelligent and witty, holding an intimate knowledge of the other Clans and their workings, as she holds close friendships with many members of other Clans. Though she holds the highest rank in her Clan, she demands that her closest advisors (Tigerclaw, Whitestorm, Lionheart,Frostfur) do not address her with the honorific '-sama', meaning 'one of high rank'. Although relatively calm and mature when a situation calls for it, Bluestar is quite laid-back and playful, often teasing younger members of her Clan.**

* * *

Rusty was used to being angry. He was used to being abandoned. He was used to being numb.

But God knows, he wasn't used to being afraid.

Not of himself, anyway.

The trek back home was like torture, every step he took bringing him closer to the place he least wanted to be.

He could feel the tears. Angry, ashamed tears that swam in his eyes, that he refused to let free. He wouldn't cry, not now, not at a moment of decision. Strength. Strength...

_Father._

The fire-haired boy stopped, leaning his shoulder against the broad trunk of a tree while he struggled to slow his pounding heartbeat.

_What's wrong with me...? I can't really be thinking of leaving... I can't..._

He slammed his fist against the rough bark, not even wincing as he scraped the cut from earlier. Blood was trickling down his hand again, dripping steadily onto the soft ground beneath. He watched silently as the crimson liquid stained the grass, reminding him of his dream.

Shaking his head, Rusty straightened up, continuing on his way back home. It had gotten very late; the murky shades of twilight had given way to the obsidian tone of night, the moon hanging overhead like a lantern.

His mother would be angry. She always worried about him. He was grateful for that, in a way. She was the only one who really cared about him, after his father died.

Too soon, Rusty spotted the little brick house, illuminated by the light of the moon. Grimacing, he approached the fence, hefting himself over it with ease. He landed in a catlike stance, then straightened up imediately when he remembered Graypaw in the exact same position.

"Rusty! Get in here right now!"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the bruise on his cheek a clear mark of Quince's wrath, a desolate Rusty crept up the stairs to his room. The sound of his footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet, which he was grateful for, seeing as Ruby would strangle anyone who woke her up in the middle of the night.

Quietly, Rusty approached his own room, turning the doorknob slowly and stepping into the gloom. He'd had his own room since the second week he'd moved in, since his stepsiblings constantly complained about his screams in the night.

Stumbled through the darkness, the boy flipped on the light switch, hurriedly changing into his pyjamas. If Quince thought he was still awake in anything more than five minutes, he'd really be in for it.

Flipping the light off again, Rusty padded softly to his bed and crawled underneath the covers. He found himself staring wistfully out the window beside his bed, his emerald eyes tracing patterns in the stars.

_Why... why would they offer me something like that? Why should I go with them, when I have no idea who they are?_

_Why am I so tempted to?_

Groaning softly, the boy rolled over, pulling his pillow over his ears. He could feel the tears building again, this time out of anger, but he wiped them away stubbornly.

_Why am I crying? There's no need to cry. I'm strong. I'm strong._

With those words echoing persistently in his weary mind, Rusty finally allowed himself to drift into the languid comfort of sleep.

* * *

The next day dawned brightly, in sharp, almost mocking contrast with Rusty's mood.

Said boy rolled over, groaning softly as sunlight streamed in through his window, filling his room with an angelic golden glow. He sat up slowly, running one hand through his short orange locks. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he looked up at the ceiling, remembering idly that it was Saturday.

_Good. That means I can go meet with Lionheart without any fuss._

Immediately, Rusty was disgusted with himself. How could he actually be thinking of joining them? It was ridiculous! Impossible! He couldn't drop school, his friends, family, everything, just to run away with a bunch of cat-eared freaks!

_But... they're offering me freedom_.

Freedom. That was a concept he'd given up on, a long time ago. It was a concept his father told him about. A concept his father said was born from the heart of a dreamer, a concept worthy of only those who could break away from the chains that bound them...

_Oh, god..._

Suddenly, his world was sent reeling. Clutching at either side of his head, he lurched forward, his eyes stretching wide as a flood of memories overtook him.

_"Dad, what's a 'mom'?" The two-year-old's bright, beaming face suddenly solemned as he asked the question to a fire-haired young man at his side._

_The man stopped in his tracks, turning to look at his bright-eyed son. He winced, as though someone had stabbed him through the heart. With that same pained expression on his face, the young father knelt beside the boy and placed one hand on his slim shoulder. "Rusty... I never told you?"_

_The boy shook his head, sensing his father's discomfort. "Priscilla said we don't have one. Is that true, daddy?"_

_"Yes, it's true." Amber eyes somewhat guarded, Jake lifted his hand from the boy's shoulder and ruffled his hair instead. "A mother... is like another father. Only, a mother is a woman."_

_"...A woman father?" Wide emerald eyes narrowed dubiously. "Does everyone have one of those?"_

_"Usually, yes. Sometimes, though, a father and a mother could seperate, or one of them could die, or..."_

_"Daddy, did I have a mother?"_

_"Yes. You and Priscilla had a mother."_

_"Where is she now?"_

_"She's dead, son."_

Rusty's fists slackened their grip in his hair as the vivid memory began to subside, leaving him feeling hollow and weary. His breath coming in shallow gasps, he turned his head slowly to look at the picture he kept on the dresser beside his bed. A tall, handsome young man with bright orange hair and laughing amber eyes. Jake. A petite, curly brown haired girl with wide amber eyes. Priscilla. A younger boy, round-faced, fiery orange hair, and emerald green eyes. Rusty.

His fists clenched into the sheets, as his jaw set stubbornly. He stood, his shoulders rigid as he walked to the door. One hand on the knob, he turned back only once, to stare at the face of the little boy in the photograph.

_Freedom, eh? Sounds good to me._

* * *

Eleven o'clock. They'd be here soon.

Quince's radio blared in the background as she cleaned up the mess from breakfast. It was one of her favorite songs, one that Rusty had heard many times over.

_If somebody's got soul_

_If somebody's got soul_

_If somebody's got soul_

_You gotta make them move_

_Make them move_

Rusty himself had never understood the song. The strange, haunting melody- it made shivers run up his spine. But there was something about it, something magical, though it made a strange pain appear in his heart.

Right now, the boy sat alone atop the broad ledge of the fence, staring out into the deep green of the woods. The sun warmed his back, soaking through his sweater to the pale skin beneath. Idly, he wondered if that untouched skin would soon be marred by scars. What was he getting himself into, exactly?

He watched silently as a solitary hawk glided over the treetops, its wings carving the air gracefully as it turned.

For a moment, he wished he could be that hawk. Wild.

"I love this song!"

Rusty flinched, looking down and spotting Smudge as he ducked out from behind the fence. He had heard Quince's radio, Rusty presumed.

"Hey, Rusty, you're not still mad at me, are ya?"

Smiling, Rusty shook his head. "No. I was never really mad at you."

"Oh. That's good. Hey, what's up, by the way? You look less emo today."

"Less... _emo?"_

"Yeah. You know, all sad and stuff."

"...But I'm not _emo_."

"Whatever. Hey, by the way, what do you think this song is about?"

Rusty craned his head, listening as the chorus repeated. "Well... I'm not sure, but I think it means that, if you know somebody has potential to do something great... you have to encourage them to do so."

"You can do it, Rusty."

"What?" The fire-haired boy looked down at his friend, confusion in his emerald eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Smudge broke into a wide grin. "I know you have potential to do something great. I'm not sure what... but I know you do. You're thinking about it right now, I bet. And... I don't think I'm gonna be a part of it. But, ya know what? I believe in you. So... yeah. You've got soul."

"Smudge..." Rusty's voice died in his throat, so he just shook his head. "Thanks. Thanks so much, Smudge."

"Hey, no problem. Get going, if you're going to go into the woods again. Your mom's gonna be checkin' up on you soon, I bet." With that, the boy grinned back at his mature friend, before he turned and bolted back to his own house.

Rusty watched him go for the longest time. He felt a new strength in his limbs, a new resolve that was growing steadily stronger. Nimbly, he leapt from the fence. As soon as he hit the ground, he was running.

Leaves whipped at his face again, but he didn't noticed, he was lost, running again...

Then Lionheart was there. A different man, a bit younger, with white hair and glasses, stood behind him.

"Are you ready, Rusty?" Lionheart rumbled, reaching out one calloused hand.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

* * *

From her window, Quince watched the boy's escape to the woods. She paused to wipe away the tears that had built steadily in her eyes.

"Don't look back, Rusty." she whispered, choking back a sob as her adopted son dissapeared from sight. "It's what your father wanted for you."

* * *

**Oh, the lovely angst!**

**I love it. LOVE IT.**

**Anyway... I had one reviewer for the last chapter. DX Though their comment was not particularly possitive, I appreciate it all the same.**

**Yes, I will be putting a 'random character info card' on every chapter from now on. 'Cause I feel like it. And they're fun.**

**So... yus.**

**If you review, you get a Smudge plushie! Yus!**


	5. Chapter 4: Deafened by Silence

**Random Character Info Box**

**Name: Graypaw**

**Species: Neko**

**Birthday: November 29**

**Age: 9**

**Gender: Male**

**Height: 155 cm (4'9'')**

**Weight: 28 kg (72 lb)**

**Affiliation: ThunderClan**

**Occupation: Apprentice**

**Mentor: Lionheart**

**Known Family: Willowpelt (Mother), Patchpelt (Father), Dappletail (Grandmother)**

**Appearence: Graypaw is a deeply tanned, tall boy with a muscular build and handsome features. His dark gray hair is shaggy and falls across his eyes. A single darker stripe runs through a particularly long strand. He has large, pale golden eyes that contrast exotically with his skin and hair. Usually, Graypaw is seen grinning or laughing. His ears are large and pointed, his tail bushy and thick-furred. He has three strange whisker-like markings on each cheek, (think Naruto).**

**Attire: Usually, Graypaw wears a simple outfit, consisting of a pair of loose-fitting brown pants and a matching shirt. He also wears a pair of dark gray goggles, though they are usually on his forehead except when in battle. He excels in strength-type tactics, so his weapon of choice is a mace that he keeps slung over his shoulder in a bandage-like wrapping. The wrapping falls away when the weapon is touched by its owner, an ability Rusty constantly asks him about, but never gets an answer to. The mace itself is simple in design, made of heavy steel. The heavy head on the end is shaped like that of an elephant, its jaws gaping in a roar.**

**Personality: Graypaw is comical, adding a bit of levity to situations that are otherwise serious. He has a flippant attitude under normal circumstances and seems to enjoy annoying his fellow apprentice, Sandpaw, which usually earns him a slap from one of her sandals. She, in turn, shows him absolutely no respect and frequently insults and attacks him; although he is no better, frequently making faces or quick insults at her expense. He is well-liked by much of the Clan for his up-beat attitude and sympathetic tendencies. Underneath his cheerful demeanor, however, he is quite perceptive in terms of regarding other people. Whenever angered or in combat, Graypaw is fairly calm, serious, and level-headed.**

**Theme Song: His World by Zebrahead**

* * *

"We should get going." The other man, the one with the white hair, said softly.

Rusty started, as the silence between the three was broken. He'd stood in that spot for a long while, after a brief conversation with Lionheart. The golden-haired warrior explained that he and Whitestorm were remarking the border, as he pointed to a faded red line in the the grass. For the first time, Rusty noticed the clay pot he held in one hand. He poured the crimson liquid from the pot over the faded line, leaving a sparkling trail through the green.

"It's ochre." Lionheart had explained, his tail twitching in amusement at Rusty's curious gaze. "Red is ThunderClan's color. We use it to mark our borders."

Rusty bit his tongue to stop the flow of questions he was dying to ask, and simply nodded.

Whitestorm's pale yellow gaze traveled out into the woods, and Rusty blinked as he felt Lionheart stiffen beside him.

"Are you ready to go?" The white-haired man asked, a bright glare falling over his glasses and hiding his eyes. He noticed for the first time the bow the man held, and the quiver of arrows slung over his back.

"Yeah."

Suddenly, Whitestorm was gone, leaving only a ripple of wind that ruffled Rusty's hair. He blinked, turning to see that Lionheart, too, was gone.

"Try to keep up." Whitestorm's calm, quiet voice echoed around him, though the warrior was nowhere in sight. "You must listen, child. Bluestar has recognized you for your heart's ears. Use them now."

The voice was gone, merely a whisper that resounded before fading into the forest.

Rusty gulped, startled by the sudden emptiness around him. He took several steps forward, cautious despite the abscence of threat. Treading lightly, he found his mind wandering while his gaze traveled to the sky above, mostly hidden by the dense canopy.

A sudden, racous call stopped him in his tracks. Eyes narrowing, he looked to the left, freezing when he noticed the dark shape of a large bird, sitting alone on an oak branch.

A tawny owl, its pale feathers turned to gold in the sun's ray, watched him with massive black eyes that seemed to see through him. It blinked once, twice, tilting its head to the side slowly in a curious fasion.

Rusty opened his mouth to speak, but swallowed the words when another screech escaped the owl's beak. With a single beat of its pale wings, the great bird was aloft, carving the air with slow, gentle strokes. It flew right over Rusty's head, before dissapearing into the shadows beyond.

Without a second thought, Rusty took off after it, ducking deftly beneath low-hanging branches. He stopped suddenly as a massive tree barred his path, its rough bark scarred by a thousand bears' claws.

Casting his gaze upwards, he spotted the owl once again, safely tucked away in a hollow halfway up the massive trunk. Frowning, Rusty looked around, wondering what to do next. Whitestorm had told him to listen, but all he could hear now was the usual array of forest noises- birds, insects, and small mammals, going about their daily business.

_"Lissssssten..."_

Rusty started as a shadow suddenly loomed over him, blocking the sun's golden rays. He whipped around, shielding his eyes as the shadow imediately cleared, revealing the sun again.

_"Lissssssten, young one. Listen..."_

Gulping, the young boy turned away, blundering clumsily into the woods, unaware of the tawny owl's amused black gaze on his back.

* * *

He felt as though he'd been traveling forever. The sun rode high in the sky, like a massive lantern. Small, white clouds drifted languidly through the sapphire expanse, and birds soared below them.

Rusty sat silently at the bank of a shallow stream, staring idly into the pure water, icy cold from the recent melt of snow. Cupping his hands, he scooped up some of the water and held it to his parched lips. He drank his fill, his spirits only slightly lifted as he sat back.

He longed for the feeling of his father's hand closing around his own, longed for the warmth and comfort he'd felt when wrapped in his arms. His eyes wavered, but no tears came, as he stared up at a lone bird in the sky.

What was he getting himself in to?

He'd been walking for hours, unable to find any trace of Lionheart or Whitestorm. Still he trekked on, searching for the smallest clues. Once, he'd found a tuft of golden hair snagged on a branch. He'd assumed that it'd come from Lionheart's bushy tail. Another time, he'd found a brightly painted feather that looked as though it came off of one of one of Whitestorm's arrows.

But he'd lost the trail since then, and was at a loss. Sighing, the young boy shrugged and scratched behind his head. "Whatever," he muttered to himself. "Moping isn't going to help anything."

So he stood once again, stretching his arms in the golden light of the sun. He hopped from stone to stone across the river, managing to only get a single splash of water on his shoes. He pushed aside the bushes on the bank of the stream, peering past the brush.

"Oi, you finally found us, hm?"

With a small yelp, Rusty fell back, narrowly stopping himself from falling into the stream. Whitestorm laughed cheerily, emerging from the undergrowth, the tawny owl perched sagaciously on his left shoulder. "Good work, Taka," the white-haired man grinned as the owl nibbled on his ear in reply. "You can go back, alright?" With that, the owl lifted from the warrior's shoulder, dissapearing into the sky.

Rusty watched silently, his forest-green eyes curious. He straightened himself when Lionheart appeared beside Whitestorm, leaves tangled in his thick hair. "How did you speak to that owl?" Rusty asked, blinking.

"The same way he spoke to you." Whitestorm winked, his glasses flashing. "That's some gift you've got, kid. Most senior warriors can't speak to the Shaikii so easily."

"What?" the young boy blinked, completely baffled by what the warrior had said.

"All will be explained in due time, child." Lionheart rumbled, spinning on his heel and beggining to walk down the bank. "You chasing after us gave us just enough time to patrol the whole eastern border, so we may return to camp now."

Whitestorm turned as well and began to follow Lionheart, leaving Rusty to stare after them.

"Wait!" he called, to which they turned and looked at him curiously. "Not having second thoughts, are you?" Whitestorm asked, looking dissapointed.

Pausing for a long moment, Rusty turned his head to look back in the direction he'd come. Suddenly, a huge grin broke out across his face. "Not a chance!" he raced forward, his stride strengthened with the power that comes with resolve.

"That's some kid." Lionheart muttered, watching Rusty running off ahead of them.

"You think he'll last?"

"Ha, with his blood? Please. The kid'll be leader before you know it."

* * *

The sun's glow was turning to a coppery shade of amber when the trio finally reached what was referred to as the entrance to Clan's camp. Rusty was amazed when the hidden walkway unfolded in front of him, made of slabs of white-and-gray marble. So skillfully was it hidden, shrouded in brambles and ivy, he was amazed the two warriors had been able to find it.

They walked along the path, and the youngest of the three began to sense the change in the older two. They appeared tense, Whitestorm clenching and unclenching his hand around his bow, Lionheart looking constantly over his shoulder.

When they finally met the main entrance, the three were met with a stony arch of red-painted bricks. It rose to a point just below the canopy, and was woven with tendrils of creeping ivy. The gate was made of wrought iron, obscuring vision into the camp.

Without a sound, Lionheart pushed open the gate, and Rusty had to blink against the blinding sunlight that shot out. When his vision returned, he was met with a deadly sound that wove around his heart, clutching with a cold fist.

Silence.

* * *

**I have not updated in a month. DX Reasons?**

**1. I'm a lazy arse.**

**2. I only got one review (from da lovely Mothstar, who's question will soon be answered), so my motivation for continuing this story was very low.**

**So, yeah, I don't want to seem like a review whore, but I am one, so yeah.**

**o3o**

**Those little character info-box things are fun. XD Just sayin'.**

**Aight, so, please review! Trust me, it motivates me to update a LOT faster!**


	6. Chapter 5: In His Eyes

**Random Character Info Box**

**Name: Tigerclaw**

**Species: Neko**

**Birthday: October 31**

**Age: 22**

**Height: 192 cm (6'3")**

**Weight: 87 kg (191 lbs.)**

**Affiliation: ThunderClan**

**Occupation: Senior Warrior**

**Apprentice: Ravenpaw Sinko**

**Known Family: None**

**Appearence: Tigerclaw is a tall, buff, heavily-built man with jaggedly handsome features and a scarred visage. His skin is rather darkly hued, hinting of his SkyClan lineage. His spiky dark brown hair that shifts to a dark shade at the tips is swept back over his head, and he has battle-scarred ears that are relatively small. He has a very short beard that frames his face. His eyes are deep orange-amber, and he has a tattoo of a roaring tiger on his right biceb. A particularly long scar runs over the bridge of his nose.**

**Attire: Tigerclaw's common attire consists of a gray muscle shirt, trimmed with a darker shade, and loose brown slacks. He wears metal braces on his wrists, as protection when weilding his weapon, which is a massive cleaver-like blade that is about the same size as his body. It is usually slung over his back, but he can whip it out easily should the need arise. **

**Personality: Tigerclaw is a serious and decisive individual, though his easily annoyed and very tempermental, often to a fault. He is greatly annoyed by immaturity, which is possibly the base reason for his hatred of young Graypaw. His calm, thoughtful behavior is thought to be a mask according to Rusty, who seeks to expose his dangerous and manipulative nature. He's shown to have very little compassion for his underlings and opponents in battle, with a distinct lust for blood.**

**Theme Song: Reclusion by Anberlin**

* * *

Ears pricked. Tails bristled. All activity within the camp was stilled as a deathly silence swept over them all. Several reached for their weapons. A few appeared frightened. The only movement came from atop a massive rock, perched at the front of the clearing. Bluestar, her blue-gray hair whipping out behind her, glared down at her loosely gathered Clan.

"Oi! Quit acting like a bunch of stupified pigeons and welcome the boy!"

Confused mumbles were exchanged within the Clan as they banded in several groups, casting furious glances in Rusty's direction. Children and adults alike were gathered, all looking equally uneasy with the situation.

As captivated as Rusty was by the majesty of the camp, he payed little mind to the suspicious musings of the strange nekos.

Japanese-styled huts, more than fifteen in number, lined the outside of the camp, made of wood and intricately decorated with flowers and tendrils of winding ivy. A small spring sat in the center of the clearing, and Rusty's eyes trailed up to see a tiny stream that led down into the spring from a space between two huts, and another that led it downhill.

However, he had no more time to examine the area, as Whitestorm lay one hand on his shoulder and led him forward slowly. The man's pale yellow gaze flickered nervously, and his tail signaled his protectiveness over the boy. He doubted any of his Clanmates would hesitate to attack him.

"Listen up!" Bluestar yelled, her confident voices ringing out over the scattered bands of her Clanmates. They, in turn, looked up, caught between respect for their leader and suspicion of this tail-less stranger.

Both Lionheart and Whitestorm stood behind him at either shoulder, shooting glares at several of their hostile friends. Gulping, Rusty looked up, seeing that Bluestar was sitting casually, her legs crossed and one cheek resting in her hand.

"This boy here," she continued, pointing with one slender finger, "is gonna join our Clan."

Imediately, shrieks of protest rose from the assembled group, who glared accusingly at Whitestorm and Lionheart, shouted curses at Bluestar, and refused to even look at Rusty.

"For the love of StarClan, let me finish!" Bluestar raised a hand, ice-blue eyes glittering with a dangerous authority nobody wanted to question. "I'm not asking for your opinions, alright? The kid's got heart. If you don't believe me, well, he's gonna kick your ass."

"I really don't think-" Rusty began to protest, his eyes stretched wide, but was stopped by Lionheart, who gave him a disaproving glance before gesturing to the discontended group. "See the way they mock you, boy?"

"Please!" One voice in particular rose from the crowd. A young man with long black-tipped cream-colored hair that tumbled over his shoulders and tall, noble ears. His face was twisted in a sneer of contempt as he looked at Rusty. "That little _human?_ He couldn't hurt a mouse."

Cruel laughter and shouts of approval followed this statement, fists pounding the air, adding to Rusty's already escalating uneasiness.

"Is that so?" Bluestar grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. "Why don't you test that theory of yours, Longtail-kun?" Gasps of shock followed her taunts, though Longtail himself appeared unfazed, even stepping out from the crowd and facing Rusty with his smirk still in place. His long tabby-striped tail flowed out behind him, lashing in anticipation.

"I... I..." Rusty stepped back, a protest on his lips.

"You're going to back down from a challenge?" Whitestorm snarled, placing one hand on his shoulder and leaning forward next to his ear. "Guess Bluestar was wrong about you, _human_. What a shame."

"Aw, is the little kittypet scared?" Longtail taunted, pulling from his belt a long spear-like blade. "Too bad. I didn't get to join in the battle with RiverClan, and I was hoping for at least a little bit of excitement. Guess I won't get any with a little carrot-top like you, though!" The cruel gleam of his spear sent golden light splaying over the camp.

Rusty's fists clenched and unclenched until his knuckles turned white. Anger was boiling in his blood, and he felt an almost animalistic urge to fight, but something held him back... a delicacy, of some sort.

"Rusty!" An object was suddenly slipped into his hand, its texture rough and crude. Looking to the side, Rusty was met with the wide golden eyes of Graypaw as he handed his knife off to the smaller boy. As Whitestorm gave a warning growl behind him, Graypaw threw Rusty one last glance before melting back into the crowd.

Blinking, hardly comprehending, Rusty looked down at the dagger. The silver blade shimmered, and the handle allowed an easy grip. The jeers from the Clan had died down in anticipation for what would happen next, and the silence suddenly appeared deathly to the boy.

"What's wrong?" Longtail jeered, grinning so that all his teeth were revealed. "Never held a dagger before?"

Rusty gave a small jolt, startled out of his thoughts by the the warrior's voice. He blinked several times, his expression blank, as he raised his head to look the warrior in the eyes. His grip on the knife tightened, and his eyes narrowed to emerald slits.

On top of the Highrock, Bluestar smiled, dropping the hand that supported her chin. Swinging her legs over the edge of the rock and placing her elbows on her kness, she leaned forward. "This is gonna be interesting." Below her, Lionheart and Whitestorm shifted uneasily, all the while shooting their leader doubtful glances.

Rusty took one step forward. That one movement brought the world back into silence. Between the arrogant young warrior and the stoic boy, tension crackled like lightning.

"Changed your mind, eh?" The cream-haired man laughed cruelly, his tongue swiping over his lips. "It'll be a quick fight, kid. You may as well give up right now." Whispers followed this brash statement, taken up mostly by the older warriors who sensed the lack of wisdom on the young man's part.

"Not on your life." It was as though the boy suddenly came alive. He launched forward, eyes blazing, knife grasped tightly in his left hand. Shadows danced over his form, lengthened by the fading day, and in that moment his hair appeared to color of fire, sparked by the golden light of the sun.

Startled by the sudden change in Rusty, Longtail faltered, though only for a moment. He too charged, spear grasped tightly in both hands. His simple shoes kicked up dust as he ran, shrouding the two in a thin cloud.

He was a warrior. He was ever watchful, sensible, and experienced. However, not he or any other warrior could interperet Rusty's next move, so bold and impulsive it was.

He veered to the left.

Straight in front of Longtail's blade.

Bluestar lurched forward, her ice blue eyes widening as her hand flew to the holster on her left leg that held her collection of small knives. However, as she realized a moment later, there was no cause for alarm, for Rusty had planned out the move like a true warrior.

Time appeared to slow between the two. Rusty reached out. He grabbed the head of the spear, right at the base, where it met the long wooden pole. Using ever ounce of strength in his body, he hoisted himself up. His leg swung around. His aim was true.

A resounding crack was heard.

When the thin cloud of dust cleared, one would see Rusty in a light, catlike crouch. The spear was held in his right hand, the dagger in his left.

Longtail had fallen several feet away, his cheek already bruising. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, where the boy's foot had connected. His dark yellow eyes were so wide, he appeared childlike.

Silence enveloped them. The crowd was stunned beyond words. Many stood gaping, their hands covering their mouths. Some looked away. Most stared in trepidation at the fire-haired young boy before them, who crouched on the ground in a way much like one of their own.

Graypaw alone appeared completely unfazed, his fist pumping the air while he yelled, "Yeah, Rusty! Kick his ass!"

Bluestar seemed close to cheering right along with him, her face split into a huge grin, though her hand still hovered nervously over her knife holster. "That's some kid." she muttered to herself, only Whitestorm and Lionheart hearing. They exchanged bewildered glances, though they made no comment.

Rusty straightened up, looking down at Longtail in a way that was both solemn and proud. "Is that it, Longtail?" he asked softly. "Was that all a warrior such as yourself had to show me?"

"You kidding?" Longtail's brutal face, though badly bruised, could still support his crooked smirk. "I'm just gettin' started!" He lunged forward, a cream-colored blur as his tail streaked out behind him.

Rusty, still recovering from his daring move, was unable to react quick enough as Longtail swept to the side, weaving his way behind the younger boy. His elbow shot out, digging in between Rusty's shoulderblades. The fire-haired boy lurched forward, his grip slackening on the weapons he held.

Taking the chance, Longtail seized his spear before backing away, eyes glinting coldly from behind the hair that fell over his face.

Rusty straightened up imediately and charged again, determined to get in another attack before he weakened again from fatigue. He swerved to the side, aiming to land a blow on Longtail's side with the dagger. Longtail sensed his intention, however, and lashed out with the spear.

Rusty ducked, just in time, as the blade grazed over the top of his head. Before Longtail could get the weapon back into position, Rusty lunged. His aim was true, as the knife sliced a long cut through the warrior's shirt and into his side.

Thrown off balance after the attack, Rusty failed to stay upright as he brushed past the warrior.

Ignored the pain in his side, Longtail swerved, his spear ready.

Rusty turned, just at the wrong time. When the spear's head met with his shoulder, he was aware only of air rushing past him as he was thrusted backward. Then, the wind was knocked out of him as Longtail ran him into the wall of the Highrock. Stones tumbled from the cliff as Rusty struggled to regain his breath while blood stained his shirt.

"Not so tough now, huh?" Longtail cackled, letting go of the spear and watching amusedly while the boy stared at him through hate-filled eyes. "Poor little kittypet. Bet that hurts, huh?" The warrior winced himself, pressing one hand to the slash on his side. "You're gonna pay for that."

Longtail had no time to react. No time to turn. No time to even see the action before it took place.

With the last ounce of strength he had, Rusty raised his hand, the one that still held the knife tightly. He pushed himself forward, dislodging the spear from his shoulder, and threw the dagger.

Longtail cried out at the blade sliced through his ear, leaving a bloody V-shape in its wake. He fell to his knees, pressing one hand to the cut while he glared at the boy venomously.

"Alright, boys, that's enough." Bluestar laughed, her voice calm, as she leapt lightly from the Highrock. Silence greeted her words, too stunned was the Clan to reply. They watched and waited, wide-eyed, as she approached Rusty.

The fire-haired boy looked up weakly, one hand clutching at his wounded shoulder while he breathed deepy, exaughsted from the fight. One look at Longtail, and it was obvious the young warrior was no better off. Bluestar lay one bony hand gently on Rusty's good shoulder, just as sunlight broke through the sky.

Golden warmth spread over Rusty, along with the distinct taste of victory that was hanging suspended in the air. A tawny owl, black gaze amused, soared over the camp before it dissapeared again into the forest.

Bluestar leaned in next to Rusty's ear, and whispered softly, "you've really got a fire about you, kid. Do you accept admission into the Clan."

Rusty straigthened, his heartbeat slowing as he met Bluestar's ice-blue gaze steadily. "I, Rusty Firenze, accept your offer. I will join ThunderClan, in turn gaining the freedom I have sought."

She straigthened up, her hand still on the boy's shoulder, and spoke out loudly, so the Clan could hear. "Hear me now, StarClan, and approve my descision. From this day forward, this young human will become a member of ThunderClan, blessed with the name of which you give him." A deathly silence greeted her words, before she spoke again.

"From this day forward, until you earn your warrior name, you will be known as Firepaw."

* * *

**IT'S SO GODDAMN CHEESY.**

**GRR.**

**Anyway... Thank you so much for reviewing last chapter! XD As you can see, it helped me update a LOT faster!**

**And, my lovely reviewers were... Superleigh50 (your wish has been granted XD), Mothstar, (FFFF I answered you like, five times. XD), iwanticecream (Yeah, you're probably the ONLY person that likes Bluestar's new personality. O.O), and Silverpelt of Moonclan (that you! X3)**

**Hmm... Interesting stuff going on right now, interesting stuff... Questions about Firepaw's past, strange terms, the workings of the Clan, not to mention character appearences... keep looking out for more FFTB! XD**

**Please review! It inspires me to update a lot faster, and I REALLY want to hear what you guys think of the story. Constructive critisism is ALWAYS welcome!**

**Thank you!**


	7. Chapter 6: Cursed Ears and Tails

**Random Character Info Box**

**Name: Spottedleaf**

**Species: Neko**

**Birthday: February 7**

**Age: 14**

**Height: 155 cm (4'9")**

**Weight: 48 kg (106 lbs)**

**Affiliation: ThunderClan**

**Occupation: Healer**

**Known Family: None**

**Appearence: Spottedleaf in a beautiful young woman with soft, delicate features and darker skin, hinting at her SkyClan lineage. Her eyes are large and golden-amber. Her long, darkly dappled hair is usually worn braided over one shoulder and tied at the end with a green ribbon. Her finely shaped ears are well-proportioned and dark-furred. Her dappled, finely feathered tail is tipped with black. Her body build is very small and lithe.**

**Attire: Her simple uniform consists of a long, pale brown floral-print kimono and a white nagajuban underneath it. She also wears a simple silver necklace with the emblem of a leaf on it, the symbol worn by all Healers.**

**Personality: Spottedleaf has a gentle and warm personality that augments her appearance. She is a soft-spoken, polite, and caring young woman who uses honorifics when addressing everyone, including members of rival Clans. She rarely shows any signs of panic or distress, and has a great sense of duty. Despite this sense of duty, however, she is prone to help anyone in need, be they a rogue or enemy warrior.**

**Theme Song: Gravity by Yoko Kanno feat. Maaya Sakamoto**

* * *

"Firepaw! Firepaw! Firepaw!"

Graypaw's cheery voice, alive with excitement, was the first to rise from the crowd of spectators. The gray-haired boy waved ecstatically at the fire-haired boy, his teeth bright in his wide grin. The call was soon taken up by an older man with black-and-white hair and a face that held a distinct likeness to Graypaw's. Uneasy chants rose from the rest, reluctantly showing their respect to the young boy.

The newly named Firepaw staggered unsteadily, the voices around him suddenly blurring as he leaned his shoulder against the edge of the Highrock.

"Alright, boy," Bluestar smiled warmly, gesturing to a young woman in the crowd. "That's enough excitement for you. Spottedleaf, do you think you could take care of him?"

"Of course, Bluestar-sama," a soft, kind voice came as reply. The beautiful girl, her braided hair tumbling over one shoulder, approached. Turning her head, she gestured toward Longtail. "Lionheart-san, do you think you could help Longtail-san into the clinic?"

"Graypaw!" Bluestar called. "Help Firepaw, alright? I've got some other matters to attend to."

"Sure thing." Graypaw pushed his way through the crowd, slipping underneath Firepaw's good arm to support his weight. "You go ahead, Graypaw-kun," Spottedlead issued. "Lay him on one of the cots, and I'll see to him in a moment."

So Graypaw began the short walk to Spottedleaf's clinic, ignoring the still-suspicious glances of the Clan. "That was incredible, by the way." The boy spoke to the half-concious Firepaw, who was struggling to keep his eyelids open. "For a while, it really looked like your were going to win. You probably would have, if Bluestar-sama hadn't stopped you."

"...I doubt that..." Firepaw muttered with a wince as they approached the medium-sized wooden hut that he assumed was the clinic. Graypaw propped open the door and helped Firepaw inside, sitting him down on one of the numerous cloth cots that circled the room.

"You kidding?" Graypaw grinned, sitting on the cot across from him. "You beat the hell out of him. Well, you aren't much better off, but still. You could have won, if you'd been faster in dodging that spear. You were already tired by that point, right? Well, you'll get stronger with training. Endurance is one of the main skills warriors learn."

Firepaw nodded, curious despite his foggy mind. "How old do you have to be to become a warrior?"

"There's no designated age. Once you're ready, basically. But, even if you are incredibly skilled, you won't be made into a warrior 'till you're at least twelve. Up 'till then, you're considered too young to handle the stresses of real battle." The cheeky boy rolled his eyes.

His companion nodded slowly, looking around the room. "Hey, Spottedleaf isn't a warrior, is she?"

"Ha, no, she's way too nice to be a warrior. And pretty. Don't tell Willowpelt I said that. Or Sandpaw, for that matter. Oh, StarClan, don't tell Sandpaw." He laughed at Firepaw's puzzled expression before continuing. "She's a Healer, meaning she takes care of sickness and injuries and stuff like that. Oh, and she communicates with StarClan for prophecies and signs."

"'StarClan'? What's that?"

"Jeez, I keep forgetting you're new. This is so weird. Alright, well, basically... uh... hm..." He scratched behind his head, frowning. "Humans believe in something called 'God', right? I think that's what Whitestorm-sensei told us..."

"Yeah, a lot of us do, I guess. I don't, though."

"Really? Why not?"

Firepaw shrugged, wincing when he disturbed his injury. "Just doesn't make sense to me, I guess."

"That's understandable. It's all way too confusing, the whole thing with Jesus and Hebrews and whatever... anyway, StarClan are our divine ancestors. Well, Starclan can be referring to the people there, or to the place, but you get the point."

"So, like Heaven?"

"Yeah, I guess. They come to Leaders and Healers in dreams with prophecies and warnings. They also give a Leader their nine lives."

"Nine lives?"

"Quit being new. It's annoying me."

"I can't quit being new."

"You know, logic has a brother. His name is _shut the hell up_."

At that moment, the door opened, and in stepped Lionheart, one of Longtail's arms draped over his shoulder. He helped the young man to an empty cot a good distance away from Firepaw before turning to Graypaw. "Graypaw-kun, I expect you to help Spottedleaf with anything she needs. And keep these two away from eachother."

Graypaw heaved a sigh, but nodded. "Alright, Lionheart-sensei..." he drawled out, crossing his arms over his chest.

So the large, muscular man left, and an awkward silence ensued between the three.

"So..." Firepaw began slowly. "What are those weird suffix-like things you put on the end of eachothers' names?"

"Oh, those? They're honorifics. Whitestorm, Brindleface, or Frostfur will explain them to you when you begin one of their classes. Oh, and I bet you're wondering about our names, too."

"Yeah, I was just about to ask, actually-"

"Will you two shut up?" Longtail snapped, making the two younger boys looked at him.

"Oh. Sorry, I forgot you were there." Firepaw apologized, confused when Graypaw began laughing at Longtail's irked expression. "You're not hurt too badly, are you?" he asked, frowning. "I know we're going to be Clanmates now, so-"

"I don't need your pity," Longtail interrupted again, glaring daggers at the two, one of his hands still pressed to his side. "Warriors don't show pity, not for their enemies."

"Now, now, Longtail-kun," the door opened, and in stepped Spottedlead, pulling a wooden cart behind her, laden with medical supplies. "True warriors show sympathy for all who deserve it." She smiled kindly at the young man.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Graypaw asked, grinning flirtaciously at the beautiful young Healer.

"I'm afraid not, Graypaw-chan," she replied, ruffling his hair affectionantly with one slender hand. "I'm going to treat Longtail's wounds first, his being more serious, and I'm afraid his temper is a bit too dangerous for you to be coming near him." She winked at him as Longtail growled in annoyance.

Flicking Firepaw's good shoulder gently with her tail, Spottedleaf made her way over to the warrior. "I'm afraid I'm a bit low on supplies," she said regretfully, using a mortar to grind several herbs. "Newleaf is late this year, and we've had to make more raids." Sighing, the Healer removed Longtail's shirt and began treating his injuries. "It's at times like these I envy the humans."

"Don't say that." Graypaw protested. "We've no reason to envy the humans."

"Why's that?" Firepaw asked, earning a hard glare from Longtail. "I... just mean... well... our technology seems so much more advanced than yours..."

Spottedleaf gave another sigh, shaking her head. "In that sense, you're right, Firepaw-kun." She retrieved bandages from the cart and began wrapping them over Longtail's side. "But humans... along the road, humans lost something very important." Tying the bandages securely, the Healer started on plastering Longtail's ear.

"Their hearts." Longtail whispered, gently touching his necklace- the one all ThunderClan warriors wore, with the little lightning bolt emblem. "They forgot who they were."

"They searched to rise above all else." Graypaw muttered, staring down at the wooden floor of the clinic. "They thought themselves higher than all other animals. Thought themselves invincible."

"They lost what it meant to be wild and free. Lost the true meaning of pride, of glory, of strength and love..." Firepaw finished, clutching at his own necklace with one hand.

"Yes." Spottedleaf nodded, dropping her hands when she finished with Longtail. "That's how we Nekos came about. Cursed by the human sorcerers, back when magic was still alive, with the features of cats. They banished us here, to the wild."

"And... you still remember it?"

"Not me, child. Not even One-eye's great grandparents could remember that time. It was so, so long ago, back when the Earth was very young. Just an infant, still shrouded with mystery and magic." A small smile laced her fine pink lips, and her dappled ears twitched as she spoke. "Oh, how wonderful that time sounds."

The three boys were quiet, even as Spottedleaf stood and made her way over to Firepaw. Graypaw helped her slip off his blood-stained shirt without disturbing the wound too much. The beautiful Healer's gentle fingers traced the edges of the wound, and she smiled lightly. "It's not very deep, it's already stopped bleeding, in fact."

While Spottedleaf's gentle hand treated his injury, Firepaw talked quietly with Graypaw; he learned that Patchpelt, the old man who'd cheered for Firepaw along with Graypaw, was in fact his father. "Yeah," Graypaw laughed, scratching one ear. "He and the ol' queen have been together forever now."

"Who's 'the ol' queen?'" Firepaw asked.

"Hm? Oh, that's Willowpelt. My mom."

"What about Frostfur and Brindleface?"

Spottedleaf answered for him. "Brindleface-san is a young warrior that never took much to fighting," she explained. "But she learned quite a bit from Whitestorm-san's teachings, and so decided to follow in his footsteps."

"So she's a teacher? And Whitestorm is, too?"

"Kind of." Graypaw replied. "They teach the basic stuff: Clan politics, math, history, things like that. Battle training and hunting is up to your mentor to teach you."

"Apprentices are also in charge of cooking and gathering food," Spottedleaf continued. "One of their many duties."

By this time, Firepaw's exhaustion had caught up with him. He was rocking back and forth, finding it difficult to keep his eyelids open. Glancing to the side, he saw that Longtail was already asleep, which explained his silence during the conversation.

"Well, Firepaw-kun, that should do it. All you need to do is rest now."

The young boy didn't need to be told twice. He lay down gingerly on the bed, though his wound was bound tight. In a few moments, the shapes of Spottedleaf and Graypaw above him had blurred, and then were gone.

* * *

"Help him in here! Gentle! Set him down on the nearest cot, shh, I'll take care of him, don't worry."

Firepaw's eyes snapped open and he shot up, imediately feeling dizzy. A shot of pain ran up his shoulder, which he quickly pressed one hand to with a wince. Blinking until his vision cleared, Firepaw spotted a tiny, black-haired boy on a cot beside him.

Spottedleaf ushured a group of worried-looking folk out the door, all of whom seemed extremely concerned for the boy. Trying desperately to clear his foggy mind, Firepaw looked again at the boy. He was deathly pale, his skin slick with sweat, and a deep gash trailed from his right shoulder down to his midriff. A feather earring dangled from his left ear.

The oragne-haired boy watched silently as Spottedleaf worked, deftly applying the needed concoctions and guaze. Several times, the weakened boy attempted to speak, but each time, Spottedleaf silenced him gently. Finally, he managed to choke out a single sentence; "Redtail is dead..."

Deathly silence descended across the room as the gifted Healer paused, her amber eyes stretching wide. Judging by this reaction, Firepaw assumed this Redtail person was very important.

"Are you sure?" Spottedleaf's voice was carefully controlled, though her hands quivered. She brushed a loose strand of black hair away from his face, and he spoke again.

"T...Tigerclaw...has... has his body..." A bout of coughing racked his body, and Spottedleaf turned to look at Firepaw quickly. "Firepaw," she said urgently, "I'm sorry to ask this of you so early in your recovery, but I need you to announce this to the Clan. Just tell them that Redtail is dead."

Nodding, Firepaw staggered out of the cot and onto his feet. The world swayed beneath him, but he managed to stay upright and approach the door. Opening it shakily, he stepped out into the the misty morning air.

A terrible scream suddenly pierced the air, making Firepaw's ears ring. His eyes drifted toward the center of the clearing, where a body lay, orange eyes wide open and staring. A girl collapsed on her knees in front of the body, whom he assumed had been Redtail's. He walked forward, watching silently as a brown-haired boy kneeled next to her and wrapped his arms around her shivering frame.

"Firepaw..." Graypaw's voice drifted up from beside him, and he turned to see his friend staring down at the body with horror. "...That... that's Redtail..."

"ThunderClan's deputy." A deep, gruff voice sounded behind them. They both whipped around at the same time to find a massive, buff man staring down at them coldly. A massive cleaver-like blade was held in one of his hands, and Firepaw could see by the bloodstain on his shirt that he'd carred the deputy's body back. It must be Tigerclaw.

"You're Firepaw." He stated, eyed narrowing. "The puny little human that fought Longtail. Wish I could've seen it."

"Hey!" Graypaw hissed, his fists clenching. In case you haven't noticed, Redtail is _dead_!"

The small girl sobbed louder, and Graypaw flinched. "Oops... sorry, Sandpaw..."

Blinking, Firepaw peered over Graypaw's shoulder to see the blond-haired girl, her face buried in the brown haired-boy's chest. They appeared to be his age, perhaps a year older, and he saw the girl's likeness in Redtail's face. His daughter, probably.

Tigerclaw growled under his breath as slowly, the rest of the Clan began to emerge from the cabins lain strewn over the clearing. "I'm aware that he's dead. That wretch, Oakheart..." He shook his head. "I must speak to Bluestar." With that, he turned on his heel and made his way over to the small cabin reserved for the leader.

"Did Ravenpaw speak to you?" Graypaw asked, looking again at Firepaw.

"Ravenpaw?"

"The black-haired guy that was really badly hurt in the battle. Dustpaw's brother." He gestured toward the brown-haired boy that held Sandpaw to his chest. Firepaw noticed for the first time the earring her wore, identical to the one Ravenpaw had.

"Oh, yeah. He told me that Redtail had died. I was just coming out here to announce it, but I guess I was too late."

Mournful whispers rose from the Clan as they approached the deputy's body, and several kneeled next to Sandpaw to comfort her. Firepaw gulped and felt a pang of sympathy for the girl, and for all who'd known the warrior as well. What a terrible thing it was, to lose a loved one.

"Redtail..." A path parted through the teary-eyed gathering as Bluestar made her way to the body of her deputy. All backed away to let her through, all but Dustpaw, who stayed rooted at Sandpaw's side.

Her eyes dark, Bluestar kneeled down beside the red-tailed man and slipped an intricate ornament from his tail. It was a long silver band, gilded with gold and studded with rubies. She stood again and approached Sandpaw, who looked up at her with wide yellow-green eyes.

Slowly, Bluestar slipped the band onto Sandpaw's own tail, before wrapping her in her arms. "Sandpaw Kuro, in the death of your father, I now name you the head of the Kuro family. Descended from the great leader Thunder himself, you were born with the purest of warrior blood. May you pass down your revered traits, and with Dustpaw Sinko to guide you, become the brilliant warrior your ancestor was."

Bluestar straightened up again, and Sandpaw nodded solemnly, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Yes, Bluestar-sama." she whispered.

Bluestar's icy blue eyes trailed over her gathered Clan. "We will mourn Redtail now," she stated, looking down again at her beloved deputy. "And when Moonhigh comes, I will appoint the new deputy."

* * *

**Well. That was fun.**

***is shot***

**Anyway, many things are explained here, and many more questions are asked. I made Sandpaw of royal blood 'cause I could, in case you're wondering. XD I loved that you guys were so interested in her appearence, so I figured I'd make her more interesting. That, and I love her.**

**So, I'm gonna go on a mini-rant-thing here. I. Hate. Spottedleaf. Seriously. The friggin' most overrated character in the books. . Seriously. There is NO character development on her part. Even in Bluestar's Prophecy, you just get NO insight on her. Plain and simple, she's boring.**

**Sandstorm, on the other hand, is awesome. My favorite character in the first series, in fact. She's so well developed, it's amazing. XD**

**And you'll soon understand about Dustpaw and Ravenpaw's bloodline, too.**

**My reviewers: Superleigh50, Moonshine74, Mothstar, and NerdPrincess101. THANK YOU ALL SO FRIKIN' MUCH.**

**I'm a review whore. Yup. I admit it. Respect me for it. RESPECT. Review. Please.**

**Yeah.**

**Do it.**

**NAO.**


	8. Chapter 7: Redtail's Vigil

****

**Random Character Info Box**

**Name: Sandpaw Kuro**

**Species: Neko**

**Birthday: August 1**

**Age: 10**

**Height: 133 cm (4'4")**

**Weight: 28 kg (71 lbs)**

**Affiliation: ThunderClan**

**Occupation: Apprentice**

**Mentor: Whitestorm**

**Known Family: Sandpaw is the last surviving member of the Kuro family, who is descended from Thunder himself, the first leader of ThunderClan. Each of the four Clans has one of these special bloodlines, each being connected to the Clan's respective first leader. Since Redtail, her father, died, Sandpaw was made the head of the family, a massive burden for one so young. She is seen as an icon of the Clan, the one who represents them as much as the leader does. As is custom, she was given a protecter at birth, this particular person being Dustpaw Sinko, whose family is descended from Lightningeyes, the first ThunderClan deputy.**

**Appearance: Sandpaw is a short, pretty sandy-blond haired girl with yellow-green eyes. Her complexion is pale, and she has a light dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. Her hair is chin-length and jaggedly cut, which adds to her almost rebellious beauty. Her ears are well-proportion and are several shades darker than her hair. Her tail is sleek and crossed through with darker tabby markings. Her thin eyebrows are drawn together in a perpetual scowl, making her seem angry most of the time. She is very lean in frame, though is stronger then what she appears.**

**Attire: Sandpaw's clothing style has been compared to a human style know as 'punk rocker'. Usually, this consists of a short dark red skirt, black panties, a black short-sleeved T-shirt over a long-sleeved dark red shirt. To gatherings, she wears the traditional floral-print pink kimono typical of the female head of the Kuro household. She wears the Kuro band over her tail, which is a wide silver tube, gilded with gold and studded with rubies. At one of Dustpaw's suggestions, she sometimes wears a red bow in her hair to hold back her bangs. She always wears traditional Japanese-style sandals, whatever the occasion. Her weapon of choice is a silvery-colored bow, and she holds an intricately decorated quiver of arrows on her back.**

**Personality: Despite her small size, Sandpaw is an agressive and short-tempered girl with rather violent tendencies. Her most common victim being Graypaw, whom she frequently abuses, usually by smacking him with one of her sandals or kicking and punching him in the face. It is thought by Firepaw that this behavior is brought about by the responsibility she was forced to take on at such a young age, when all she really wanted was a simple life as a free-spirited warrior. This may also be the cause of her rebellious tendencies as she struggles to find a place for herself that doesn't involve being the center of attention. Despite this, however, Firepaw points out on several occasions that she has a very noble bearing about her, and at times seems like the powerful lady she was born to be. She has a very deep connection with her protecter, Dustpaw, though is not quite so warm to his brother, Ravenpaw. She also is quite hostile towards Firepaw, for though she doesn't show it, she is very concerned for her Clan's image and thinks a human joining their ranks will make them seem weak. Her best skill is hunting, in which she shows tremendous promise.**

**Theme Song: Seventeen Ain't So Sweet by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus**

* * *

**Honorific Guide**

**-sama: "one of high rank", or in this case, "leader", or "revered"**

**-taichou: "captain", or in this case, "deputy"**

**-san: "adult", formal, used between equals, or as light respect from a younger person, as in 'Mr.' and 'Miss' in the English language. Also can be used between spouses.**

**-chan: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used as an endearing term for one who is thought of as cute or childlike. Also can be used to address a female one shares a strong bond with, whether it be romantic or friendship.**

**-kun: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used to address one of a junior status, as in a leader addressing a young warrior. Also can be used to address a male one shares a strong bond with, whether is be romantic or friendship.**

**-Senpai: "upperclassman", so can be used in an apprentice addressing a warrior.**

**-Sensei: "teacher", so can be used as an apprentice addressing their mentor.**

**-hoshi: "Buddhist Priest", or in this case, "Healer"**

**Note: When honorifics are not used, it usually means the two know each other well enough to not engage in formalities. Could also be used as a sign of disrespect, if the particular person is of very high rank.**

* * *

The vigil that was held for Redtail created a dismal mood about the camp, completely erasing the tense atmosphere it'd withheld after Firepaw and Longtail's battle.

Spottedleaf had left the clinic, announcing that Ravenpaw's condition had stabled. She'd told Firepaw he needed to rest more, but he'd politely refused the offer. He wished to be here, mourning with his new Clanmates for a man he'd never met.

Strange how life fills you with such feelings of pointless duty.

So he'd stayed, shoulder-to-shoulder next to Graypaw as Redtail's chilled body was hefted into a coffin, one of the many that were stored in one of the cabins. Firepaw figured this practice would be considered gruesome to many, but he could tell it was only part of their life here.

As many stepped forward to give their final respects to the former head of the Kuro family, Firepaw held back. Even when it was Graypaw's turn, he only hovered nearby. Graypaw looked down solemnly at the red-haired man, who'd been given a brief cleaning before being placed in the coffin.

"StarClan will receive you with honor, Redtail-taichou," he said softly, before he stepped out of the way of a brown-haired woman with a bandaged arm.

"What was he like, when he was alive?" Firepaw asked as Graypaw stood next to him again.

"Kingly, and dignified. I've heard stories that when Bluestar chose him as deputy, she said that she needed someone who was sensible enough to keep her eccentric tendencies in check." Graypaw laughed softly, looking up at the clear blue sky.

Firepaw nodded. Graypaw'd already explained to him about the Kuro family, and how they were descended from Thunder, the first ThunderClan leader. "So, Sandpaw is the head of the family now?"

"Yeah." Graypaw frowned. "Damn her, making me feel sorry for her. I'm gonna regret it, I just know it."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see."

"DUMBASS!" A red-and-black shape suddenly sailed through the air. Firepaw just managed to step back in time to watch as Sandpaw's wooden sandal connected with Graypaw's face. Normally, he would have been worried about whether or not Graypaw was okay, but he was too busy trying to figure out how it was possible for her to sail through the air in a line perfectly parralel to the ground. Without any sort of propulsion.

As the girl kicked off of Graypaw's face and landed lightly, he held one hand to his nose and glared daggers at her. "The hell was that for?"

Firepaw blinked at the sandy-haired girl. Her eyes were still puffy and red from crying, but at the moment she seemed more angry than sad. She jabbed one finger at Firepaw accusingly, though she didn't look at him. "What the hell did you think you were doing, bringing one of _his_ kind here?" She hissed.

"Um, hello?" Firepaw blinked, waving. "I'm right here. I can hear everything you say."

Sandpaw ignored him, her pretty face contorted in rage as she pointed at Graypaw now. "Do you even care what the other Clans think of us? Do you know what that's gonna do to us? They're gonna think we're _weak_, that's what!"

"Sandpaw-sama, you must calm down." The boy with short gray-brown hair and an earring dangling from his right ear stepped forward, placing one hand on her shoulder. "This behavior is unbecoming of a Kuro."

"Bug off, Dustpaw." She snapped, shrugging the boy's hand off and glaring at him venomously.

"No, he's right." Graypaw retorted, straightening up, one hand still to his nose. "Do you even realize your dad's _dead_?"

Silence followed Graypaw's tactless words, in which Sandpaw's fists clenched tightly. On her tail, the Kuro family band glimmered dimly. "Yes," she hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm perfectly aware that my father is dead."

"Look, Sandpaw, I didn't really mean..." Graypaw started, having caught his mistake.

"Whatever." Sandpaw muttered, and Firepaw could see from the way her shoulders quivered and her tail bristled that she was close to tears. She spun on her heel and began to run, away from the camp and her father's lifeless body.

Dustpaw shot Graypaw a furious glance before he took off after his charge.

"I'm so frikin' _stupid_." Graypaw muttered to himself, his ears drooping. "Seriously, why would I say that?"

Firepaw smiled sympathetically, though his gaze trailed to the place in the woods where Sandpaw had dissapeared. "Don't worry about it." The orange-haired boy said.

Graypaw looked up as Lionheart approached, and it was easy to see by his weary eyes that the warrior had been grieving for his old friend. "You'd best get to work on preparing some food." He said softly, placing one massive hand on his apprentice's shoulder. "Redtail would want us to celebrate the naming of a new deputy, wouldn't he?"

The gray-haired boy nodded after a moment, before gesturing to Firepaw. "C'mon, you can help me." The two walked through the crowd of weary-looking mourners, all with their heads bowed and tails drooping. They approached a small stone hut with smoke rising from an elegant chimney. Graypaw opened the door, Firepaw following, and found an elderly man tending to the fire.

"Ah, Graypaw." The man smiled warmly, his tiny ears twitching. "Young Firepaw-kun, too. Come on in, you two." Firepaw noticed the large pot over the fire, and the warm brown stew that boiled within. The scent that rose made his stomach growl as he realised he hadn't eaten since the day before.

"It's good to see you, Smallear," Graypaw smiled at the scraggly-haired man, who replied with a short little laugh. "Yes, indeed, I saw that we'd have trouble tonight with the death of Redtail, so I decided I may as well help the apprentices with cooking duties. Such a shame, Redtail-taichou's death is. A wonderful deputy, through and through."

"StarClan will recieve him with honor." Firepaw murmured, repeating the words Graypaw had spoken at Redtail's coffin.

"That they will, my boy. That they will." The old man mused, stirring the broth in the pot slowly. "The stew is almost ready, you two. Graypaw, show Firepaw-kun around, why don't you? The boy's going to be working in here before you know it."

Firepaw smiled warmly, for he already found himself to be quite fond of the kindly old Neko. "Sure thing, Smallear." Graypaw gestured the shorter boy to his side.

"And don't have him do any work yet," Smallear added, a teasing glint in his eyes. "That shoulder of his is probably giving him hell. Don't want to give Spottedleaf any more work than she already has with Ravenpaw."

Graypaw laughed in agreement, then proceeded in explaining the basics to Firepaw. "So, apprentices switch with cooking duties usually. A couple of us cook, some of us clean up afterward, that sort of thing. We usually have warriors or elders or queens helping us, since they say we can't do it right."

"Well, ya can't." Smallear cut in, earning a laugh from Firepaw. "ThunderClan's diet consists mostly of the prey we can find out here. Deer and boar are our main food, as well as rabbits, birds, and squirrels. What's with that face, boy?"

"Well... it's just that, hunting, in human society... is considered pretty immoral."

"It's neccesary around here." Graypaw scoffed, rolling his eyes. Do you have any idea how big the forest is? It's massive. This also happens to be a deer and boar birthing ground, and since their only natural predator around here are the bears, we're needed here. If we weren't here, their population would be way out of wack."

Firepaw nodded in understanding. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"Good." Graypaw nodded importantly, seeming awful proud of himself. "We also eat some wild herbs that the queens collect. It's part of their daily excersises with Spottedleaf. Something about strengthing the kids before they have them, and strengthening their bond once they're born... I don't know."

"Elders will often help with that." Smallear added. "We also have some of our own fruit and berry plants that are tended to by we Elders. By the way, the stew tonight is rabbit thyme."

"Yum." Graypaw grinned, though Firepaw didn't think this sounded particularly appetizing. "Who caught the rabbit?"

"Sandpaw-san. That girl is the best hunter I've ever laid eyes on." He shook his head disbelievingly. "Never, in my time... not even Owleyes himself could compare to her..." His voice trailed off as he began mumbling to himself.

Graypaw suddenly appeared uncomfortable, and he looked toward the door. "So, Smallear, when do you think it's gonna be ready?"

"Hm? Oh, it's ready now. Go call some young'uns in here to carry it outside."

"Sure thing." The tall boy walked to the door and called outside. "Oi! Runningwind, Mousefur... oh, your arm's still hurting? Alright, Frostfur-san, how about you?"

Graypaw stepped back as a tall young man with feathered ears and short light brown hair stepped in. Firepaw noted his long, athletic legs, and assumed he was the one named Runningwind. The second was a middle-aged woman with silvery blue white hair that swept past her waist and a once-beautiful face that was now creased with smile lines.

"You two can carry this out." Smallear hefted the pot from the fire by its handle and handed it to the two, who grasped it firmly. "Start serving it out, why don't you?"

"Yeah, whatever." "Of course, Smallear-san." The two replied at the same time, then glared at eachother momentarily, obviously irritated by the other's response. They left, Graypaw following with a collection of small wooden bowls and spoons.

"Firepaw-kun," Smallear said, to which her turned. "Get your shoulder checked on again. And speak to Ravenpaw. The boy could use some moral support, having seen such carnage at his young age."

Firepaw nodded obediantly, and slipped out of the hut. He crossed the clearing, ignoring suspicious glares from several people as they got in line to recieve a portion of the stew. He knocked on Spottedleaf's door, and she answered imediately with a kind smile. "Ah, Firepaw-kun. Come on in."

The fire-haired young boy followed Spottedleaf to the cot where Ravenpaw lay, his thin eyebrows drawn together and sweat beaded on his forehead. Spottedleaf sighed wearily, her gentle eyes trailing the injured boy's skinny frame. "I told Tigerclaw he wasn't ready..." She shook her head, then turned back to Firepaw. "Well, Firepaw-kun, I suppose you came to get your wound checked on. Saves me the trouble of tracking you down, that's for sure."

Firepaw was silent, even as he sat down and felt Spottedleaf's skilled fingers reapplying a healing bind to the injury. He watched the gentle rise and fall of Ravenpaw's chest as he slept fitfully, every once in a while emitting a small groan. The little feather bobble hanging from his ear was tawny brown, reminding Firepaw of a certain, rather annoying bird.

"There." Spottedleaf smiled, helping Firepaw put his shirt back on. "You'll need to be checked on regularly, but since I doubt you'll listen to me, there's no reason to tell you that. I'll just have to hunt you down, I guess." She laughed quietly, and even Firepaw gave the smallest hint of a smile.

Suddenly, Spottedleaf's ears pricked, and her tail stiffened. She smiled sadly, looking out the small, blocky window to the right of the door. "Bluestar's going to announce the new Deputy. Strange, it's not get Moonhigh. Just past sunset, in fact. Oh well, we'd best be going." The dark-haired girl opened the door and walked out into the night, Firepaw following right behind her.

Bluestar stood atop the Highrock, her normally open and laughing face stern, her blue hair catching the light of the moon. Every line, every crevice of her face was hard and powerful, and Firepaw saw for the first time the reason she was leader. The pure power her prescence radiated, the reverence all around her felt, it was truly something to behold.

Heads were bowed in sorrowful rememberance, but they raised as they heard the soft sound of their leader's footsteps. Still-steaming pots of stew were set down on a wide cloth as they stood, eyes cast upwards to the night sky where their beloved deputy would walk.

"The time has come." Bluestar stated. It was not said particularly loudly, but it echoed and resounded like a gunshot. "I say these words before the body of Redtail, so that his spirit may hear and approve my choice." All were quiet as tension crackled in the air.

Firepaw's emerald eyes flickered to the massive warrior, Tigerclaw, where he stood several feet from the Highrock. His amber eyes were cold, and the slightest hint of a smirk laced his lips. _He thinks he'll be the new deputy_, Firepaw realized, frowning. The warrior certainly appeared powerful, but something about him seemed terribly dangerous to the former kittypet.

"Lionheart will be the new deputy of ThunderClan."

One could not begin to explain the disbelief, the utter fury that crossed Tigerclaw's stony face, but was replaced imediately into a mask of indifference. Firepaw's shocked gaze wavered, and from that moment on, he would always remembered that first spark of doubt he'd felt about the brown-haired warrior.

"Lionheart! Lionheart! Lionheart!" The chant rose like a drumbeat, steady and powerful as the Clan welcomed their new deputy, blessed by the very spirit of Redtail and the warriors of the skies. Lionheart himself appeared amazed, Graypaw leaping up and down with joy at his side.

"He's a good, wise, powerful warrior." Spottedleaf said behind Firepaw, quietly so as not to startle him. "Bluestar made an excellent choice." Firepaw, however, could not help noticing that her eyes were trained on Tigerclaw, a hint of distrust in their pale amber depths. Uneasiness wove its icy fingers around his heart, but he was distracted as Graypaw placed one deeply tanned hand on his good shoulder.

"Isn't this great?" The gray-haired boy grinned, pumping his fist in the air. "My mentor, the deputy! Yeah, Lionheart-taichou! With him as deputy, you're gonna have no problem here, Firepaw."

Firepaw smiled after a long moment, his eyes softening. "Yeah," power seemed to work its way into his being as he looked up at the star-studded night sky. "I guess so."

* * *

**So, we're seeing the first hints of FirexSpotted here. Which isn't going to last long. XD *is shot***

**I'm so mean. Sorry.**

**By the way, if you like this story, check out my new one titled 'Two Points for Honesty'! It's AU as well, focusing on the human versions of Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight. x3 So, while you're waiting for a new update of this one, I'll probably put up new chapters of that one. Yay!**

**Mah reviewers aaaaare: Superleigh50, and Mothstar. Tank chu!**

**By the way, I'm sorry for the late update. I was having some dumb problem where my computer wouldn't let me post any new chapters or anything. Grr.**

**As you all know, reviews make the world go 'round. Well, my world, at least. COME, MY MINIONS, AND HELP ME DOMINATE THE FANDOM. MWAHAHAHAHA.**

***is shot again***


	9. Chapter 8: Owls and Hotsprings

**Random Character Info Box**

**Name: Ravenpaw Sinko**

**Species: Neko**

**Birthday: April 18**

**Age: 9**

**Height: 144 cm (4'6")**

**Weight: 28 kg (71 lbs)**

**Affiliation: ThunderClan**

**Occupation: Apprentice**

**Known Family: Part of the Sinko family, which is descended from Lightningeyes, the first Deputy of ThunderClan. His brother Dustpaw is the protecter of Sandpaw Kuro.**

**Mentor: Tigerclaw**

**Appearance: Ravenpaw is a weak, sickly, pale boy with an emaciated appearance and spindly arms. His mid-length hair is raven-black and parts over his forehead. A tawny brown feather earring dangles from his left ear. His yellow eyes slant down, giving him a perpetually tired expression. His ears are small and rounded, his tail relatively short.**

**Attire: Ravenpaw's attire is very simple, usually consisting of a brown wool sweater and dark-colored deerskin pants. **

**Personality: Ravenpaw tends to be clumsy and easily duped. His kind nature and nervousness results in him being the victim of many bullies and practical jokes. Flustered and quiet in most situations, Ravenpaw has a tendency to shrink from responsibility and isolates himself whenever possible. He has a strong relationship with Whitestorm, the only adult who'd ever understood him. Weakened recently by the crippling fear of his mentor, Ravenpaw's state of mental health has come into question as his morale drops to a state of pure and utter depression. The only solace he finds is usually found with his best friends Graypaw and Firepaw, though never with his own brother or Sandpaw, as they both despise him for being weak and timid.**

**Theme Song: Bleed (I Must be Dreaming) by Evanescence**

* * *

**Honorific Guide**

**-sama: "one of high rank", or in this case, "leader", or "revered"**

**-taichou: "captain", or in this case, "deputy"**

**-san: "adult", formal, used between equals, or as light respect from a younger person, as in 'Mr.' and 'Miss' in the English language. Also can be used between spouses.**

**-chan: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used as an endearing term for one who is thought of as cute or childlike. Also can be used to address a female one shares a strong bond with, whether it be romantic or friendship.**

**-kun: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used to address one of a junior status, as in a leader addressing a young warrior. Also can be used to address a male one shares a strong bond with, whether is be romantic or friendship.**

**-Senpai: "upperclassman", so can be used in an apprentice addressing a warrior.**

**-Sensei: "teacher", so can be used as an apprentice addressing their mentor.**

**-hoshi: "Buddhist Priest", or in this case, "Healer"**

**Note: When honorifics are not used, it usually means the two know each other well enough to not engage in formalities. Could also be used as a sign of disrespect, if the particular person is of very high rank.**

* * *

The next morning dawned bright. Rosy tints of orange and yellow splayed over the land in ribbons of light, twirling and twisting as mist rose above the woods. Creatures stirred from the night's slumber, eyes still dreary with the remnants of sleep, and set out to greet the new Spring day. The sun's gentle rays touched everything, and what it did not touch was splattered with sunlit drops of dew as they fell from blades of grass and leaves of trees.

"Firepaw~! Firepaw~! Wake up, you baka Firepaw~!"

Graypaw's raucous attempt at singing proved to be the perfect alarm clock. Firepaw's eyelids fluttered, and he blinked several times to clear the shadows from them. He sat up slowly, wincing at the dull ache in his shoulder.

"Firepaw!" Graypaw's face, inches from his, made the orange-haired boy leap back with a yelp. He hit his head imediately on the bunk above his, which was Graypaw's. He spent the next several moments cradling his throbbing head while Graypaw laughed hysterically.

"Ugh..." Firepaw grunted, one eye closed, when he finally stood up. The wooden walls of the cabin were awash with a warm, silky red hue. His gaze traveled over the other bunks in the cabin, seeing after a moment that both Dustpaw and Sandpaw were gone. The night before, the warriors had insisted the apprentices got some rest, and so they were sent back to the cabin.

"So," Graypaw grinned at his friend as he began stretching his arms. "We're gonna do some hunting today. I wonder what weapon you'll get? Well, for hunting, there are only three kinds of weapons you can use, but I mean for fighting."

"What weapons are there for hunting?"

"Bow-and-arrows, slingshots, and spears. Grr, people like Whitestorm-san and Sandpaw are so lucky to be able to use a bow-and-arrow for both hunting _and_ fighting." Graypaw muttered mutinously under his breath.

"What weapons do you use?"

"A slingshot for hunting, mace for fighting."

"What about Lionheart?"

"Same thing. You're always given a mentor whose fighting weapon is the same as yours. You learn better that way, y'know?"

Firepaw nodded thoughtfully. "So, who do you think I'd get as a mentor?"

"Well, that'll be decided after you're evaluated to see what weapon you're best with. All apprentices are required to carry a knife with them as a second line of defense if their first weapon is out of use."

A sudden rapping on the door interrupted Graypaw, and a booming voice sounded. "Graypaw, have you woken Firepaw up?"

"Yup! We're on our way, Lionheart!" Graypaw grabbed a pair of goggles from a stand beside their bunk and put them on. "You ready?"

"Yeah." Firepaw stood up as well, and together the two stepped out into the reddened morning light.

* * *

"See that rabbit?" Whitestorm whispered from where he sat beside Firepaw. They were hidden behind a bush whose budding leaves offered just enough cover to conceal them. After having chosen a weapon he would use to hunt, Graypaw had went off with Lionheart while Whitestorm had decided to help Firepaw get started.

"Yeah, I do." Firepaw's grip on his slingshot tightened as he watched the fat gray creature hop around at the base of a tree. Small shoots sprouted at its roots, tiny nutricious buds that the rabbit was devouring before others found the bounty.

"While it's distracted," Whitestorm shifted, not once taking his eyes from the prey. "I want you to shoot. Don't stand up, just find a thin place in the branches and aim for the front haunches."

"Alright." Firepaw narrowed his eyes as he eased forward, pressing himself further into the bush so he could get a clear shot. The rabbit's little bob of a tail was sticking straight in the air as it foraged, completely unaware of the danger at hand. Firepaw fit a stone into the pocket of the slingshot and pulled back the linen strap. He aimed carefully, and let go.

The stone whizzed through the air like a bullet, a silvery comet through the clear air. The rabbit lifted its head, black eyes wide, but was too late as the stone struck its back leg.

At the rabbit's squeal, Firepaw leapt up, only to see with dismay that the furry little creature was hopping in limping circles.

"Bad luck," Whitestorm muttered as the rabbit disapeared into the bushes. "Well, we should go see if we can find-"

"No." Firepaw said instantly. "I want to go after it. If I leave it like that, it'll just die in pain."

Whitestorm said nothing for a long moment, just stared at the young boy through narrowed yellow eyes. "Alright," he said finally. "Just don't go too far."

Firepaw immediately set out, crashing through the bushes in pursuit of the wounded rabbit. Flecks of blood, tufts of gray fur, a flash of the fluffy white tail, he had to pay attention to it all to keep on the same trail as his prey. Suddenly, in the middle of a small clearing, the rabbit had stopped.

A small spring sat in the center of the clearing, glinting amber in the sunlight. The rabbit sat frozen, its whiskers quivering as it stared into the richly hued water. Firepaw picked up another stone, rolled it in his fingers for a moment, then fit it into the pouch. Just a bit closer, and he would have a clean shot...

A tawny shape suddenly blazed from the treetops, a flurry of black talons and golden beak. The owl's vice-like grip hit the rabbit, snapping its neck and killing it instantly. The tawny owl, the same one Firepaw was getting quite tired of seeing, raised its head and fixed him in its mirthful obsidian gaze. Blood oozed over his claws, dyeing his pale feathers scarlet.

"Hey!" Firepaw shouted indignantly, leaping to his feet and stepping out onto the open. "That was mine!"

_"Was yours, was yours,"_ Churred the large bird, his head bobbing up and down. _"Was yours, churrrrr, not now, not now."_

"But that's not fair! _I_ was the one who was hunting it, not you. It's _my_ prey!"

The bird clucked his beak, stepping off of the rabbit and making bloody prints of his feet on the ground. _"Foolish human, foolish human. Doesn't know! Doesn't know! Laws of the forest, churrrrr. Laws of the forest."_

"What laws?" The orange-haired boy asked, irritation seething in his tone. "There aren't any laws of the forest, that's the point!"

_"Foolish!"_ The bird snapped, flaring his wings and hissing venomously at the boy. _"No respect, churrrrr, no respect! The strong survive! Only the strong! That is the law, the law!"_

"What's that got to do with anything? It's still my prey! I was hunting it, and I'm plenty strong."

_"Humans, humans indeed, churrrrr. The strong surive by opportunity, opportunity, churrrrr! This rabbit here, this rabbit, I seized, for I took the opportunity, opportunity. Understand, child, understand? The strong are smart, are smart. Become smart, child, human child, and you will grow strong!"_ With that, the bird seized the rabbit in its long black talons, flared its broad wings, and glided off into the treetops.

Firepaw stared after the bird, still rather peeved at having his quarry stolen, but thinking all the same about the owl's strange words.

Whitestorm looked up when Firepaw returned, looking rather lost in thought. "Did you get the rabbit?" He asked, his ears twitching.

"No," Firepaw answered dejectedly. "But I met that owl again. He spoke to me."

"Really?" Whitestorm's interest piqued, and his tail shot up. "What did he say?"

"He told me about the law of the forest, and how only the strong survive. He told me to 'become smart, and become strong'."

"Ah." The white-haired man nodded slowly. "He's a tricky one, he is. Has been since the time of Owleyes. Oh, Owleyes was the first to speak to that bird, thousands of years ago."

"Thousands of years- how old is he?"

"Nobody knows. Some say he is a phoenix, one of your humans legends. The bird that bursts into flamed when he becomes old, and is reborn from its own ashes. I personally don't think that to be to outrageous a possibility."

Firepaw only shook his head, confused. He instead moved to another topic. "When I came here to ThunderClan, you said I was talented in speaking to the Shaikii. Is that the bird's name?"

"That it is, child. The Shaikii is a mysterious bird, you see. He speaks only to those he dubs worthy. Many try to understand him, but find themselves unable, for he speaks in many tongues." Whitestorm hefted himself from the ground, stretching in the golden sunlight. "We should get back to camp, boy. Graypaw will show you the hotsprings."

* * *

"Yeah, I forgot to tell you about them," Graypaw said when the two got back to the apprentice's cabin. He lay on his bunk, a blade of grass in his mouth, his arms behind his head. "They're these natural hotsprings inside that big cliff overlooking the camp. There are two sections, one for guys and one for the ladies."

"Do all the Clans have those?" Firepaw asked, grimacing at the thought of any other means of sanitation.

"Hah, nope. WindClan has it the hardest, even though they don't seem to mind too much. They have a single well at the center of the camp. They just bathe themselves there. ShadowClan grows soaproot, which we usually trade them for at Gatherings, and RiverClan just take morning baths in the river."

Deciding not to ask about the whole 'trading at Gatherings' things until later. "Well, we should actually head to the springs now if we want to get there before all the warriors do." Graypaw decided, leaping down from his bunk. "Besides, this is Mousefur's bath hour." He grinned cheekily.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Firepaw asked, following his friend out the door. "I thought the two baths were seperated, anyway."

"Only by a wooden wall, in which there is a peephole." Graypaw laughed, swerving behind what Firepaw had learned was the Elder's hut and heading up a rocky slope. "What sucks is when you catch One-eye or Dappletail in there." The gray-haired boy shivered. "Now that's creepy."

Firepaw grinned too as they approached two small wooden huts that seemed to be attached to a huge cliff face. "Do you ever spy on Spottedleaf?" Firepaw asked, trying to be as casual as possible."

Graypaw stopped with his hand on the doorknob of the hut to the right and looked at Firepaw. "Well, duh. Why'd you want to know?" His voice suggested he already knew why, and Firepaw found himself blushing furiously. "I didn't mean it like that, you pervert-"

"Well, no need to worry, my friend." Graypaw said as they stepped into the steamy hut and heard the giggling of what sounded like two girls on the other side of the wooden wall. "I think we're lucky today! She's with Mousefur." Graypaw stripped off his simple clothing hastily, putting it on a wooden bench in the hut, and raced to a door on the far side of the hut.

Firepaw sighed and followed, albeit quite a bit slower. When he arrived in the room, he was amazed to find a rather shallow pool of water in an otherwise smooth stone floor. A small stream ran from one side, which Firepaw assumed was the source of the hot water. Graypaw was in the water up to his waist and was peeking through a tiny hole with a massive grin on his face.

"You've gotta see this!" The gray-haired boy laughed. "They're splashing eachother. Oh my StarClan, this is amazing!"

"I don't really feel comfortable with spying on Spottedleaf-hoshi," Firepaw replied, remembering the term he'd learned that meant a medicine cat. "Or Mousefur, for that matter."

"You know you want to."

They sat in silence for a long moment, Graypaw grinning devilishly, Firepaw attempting to hold his ground and failing. "Fine." He muttered finally. "Just one peek, but that's it." He stood up, Graypaw moving aside to give him a view. Uncertain for a moment, he hesitated, before finally peeking into the other bath.

Spottedleaf's dark dappled hair was beaded with silvery drops of water that spiraled in the air. Mousefur was splashing her, her own short hair almost completely soaked. Firepaw's gaze only stayed on her for a moment though, too fascinated was he by Spottedleaf. "So that's what a girl's body looks like..." He whispered, a slow blush creeping over his cheeks.

"Awesome, isn't it?" Graypaw laughed. "Spottedleaf's got it going on! Though I must say, Mousefur is not bad herself..." He mused, his golden eyes half-lidded as he thought.

Firepaw's only response was a barely audible murmur as he stepped back, allowing Graypaw access to the peephole again. He stared silently up at the stone roof of the bath, only one thought in his mind: _I die happy._

"Graypaw..." A voice, tinted with a furious snarl, sounded behind the two. Runningwind, a towel wrapped around his waist, stood towering over the bath. "You're not spying on my sister, are you?" He hissed carefully, cracking his knuckles.

"Why, did you want to have a look?" Graypaw asked, feigning innocence. "Spottedleaf's in there, too."

"Spottedleaf?" Runningwind appeared to consider this for a second, then shook his head. "No, just answer the question. Were you spying on Mousefur?"

"Nope!" "Yep!" Firepaw and Graypaw responded at the same time, Firepaw shaking his head rapidly and Graypaw nodding proudly. "Seriously bro," Graypaw said, looking through the hole again, "Your sister's got a rockin' bod."

"You're dead."

Firepaw tried his best to stay away from the battle that ensued. Scooting over to the furthest corner of the pool, he watched as Runningwind proceeded in dunking Graypaw into the water multiple times. "You should slam him against the wall," Firepaw suggested.

"Thanks a lot!" Graypaw choked.

"Good idea." Runningwind then slammed the smaller boy into the wooden wall that separated the two baths.

"No, not that wall!" Firepaw shouted, but it appeared to be too late, as the wall shuttered and began to slip. Screams could be heard on the other side as the barrier fell, sending up a wall of water and showering the two girls.

Both parties stood silently, Runningwind holding Graypaw by the hair, Firepaw gawking, Graypaw with a nosebleed that could have been caused from either being slammed into the wall or the sight of the two girls. Spottedleaf stared, her arms sheilding her breasts and her amber eyes wide. Mousefur appeared beyond pissed.

"Um..." Graypaw chuckled awkwardly, not once taking his eyes off of Mousefur's still exposed breasts. "...Hiya."

* * *

**Why? Because I can, my friends, because I can.**

**Yeah. Graypaw. My little bastard, he is.**

**I will not say anymore, as it's become apparent I'm disturbed. No need to prove it any more.**

**Reviewers: Superleigh50, Scarheart of DarkClan, Mothstar, Raintail of Windclan, littlemisslibrarian, and RainbowShparkle. I really appreciate you guys. x3**

**Please review, and help me update! By the way, I updated Two Points for Honesty, if you're interesting. X3**

**REVIEW. PLZKTHX.**


	10. Chapter 9: Heart to Heart

**Random Character Info Box**

**Name: Dustpaw Sinko**

**Species: Neko**

**Birthday: January 4**

**Age: 10**

**Height: 154 cm (4'8")**

**Weight: 30 kg (84 lbs)**

**Affiliation: ThunderClan**

**Occupation: Apprentice, Protecter**

**Known Family: Part of the Sinko family, which is descended from Lightningeyes, the first Deputy of ThunderClan. **

**Mentor: Was Redtail, now is Longtail.**

**Appearance: Dustpaw is a strong boy with dark gray-brown hair that is swept to one side. He has narrow pale amber eyes and a tan complexion. His tall pointed ears have tufts of fur at the end, and his tail tapers down to a point.**

**Attire: Dustpaw's attire most commonly consists of a black hoodie and matching sweatpants. Because he excels in stealth-type tactics, he wears light shoes and his weapon of choice is a series of inch-long thin needles he keeps in a holster on his left arm. These needles are extremely difficult to use, as they only work when thrown to puncture the pressure points of an enemy's body in order to temporarily paralyze them.**

**Personality: A usually gruff and sensible boy, Dustpaw is practical to the point where he appears to be rather blunt. He is talented in both hunting and fighting, and as a result resents his brother Ravenpaw because he believesd he brings shame to the Sinko name. Though he is extremely loyal to Sandpaw, he often accidently offends her by inserting his own ideas, which go against her logic and insecurities.**

**Theme Song: Promise of a Lifetime by Kutless (This song would be Dustpaw speaking to Sandpaw, since he greatly appreciates their friendship and that he'd been destined to protect her since his birth.)**

* * *

**Honorific Guide**

**-sama: "one of high rank", or in this case, "leader", or "revered"**

**-taichou: "captain", or in this case, "deputy"**

**-san: "adult", formal, used between equals, or as light respect from a younger person, as in 'Mr.' and 'Miss' in the English language. Also can be used between spouses.**

**-chan: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used as an endearing term for one who is thought of as cute or childlike. Also can be used to address a female one shares a strong bond with, whether it be romantic or friendship.**

**-kun: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used to address one of a junior status, as in a leader addressing a young warrior. Also can be used to address a male one shares a strong bond with, whether is be romantic or friendship.**

**-Senpai: "upperclassman", so can be used in an apprentice addressing a warrior.**

**-Sensei: "teacher", so can be used as an apprentice addressing their mentor.**

**-hoshi: "Buddhist Priest", or in this case, "Healer"**

**Note: When honorifics are not used, it usually means the two know each other well enough to not engage in formalities. Could also be used as a sign of disrespect, if the particular person is of very high rank.**

* * *

Two weeks passed since he incident at the hotsprings. Mousefur had reported immediately, and the three boys had been called to a meeting below the Highrock. When she'd finished laughing about it, she told them they were to rebuild the wall from scratch with no help from others. Unfortunantly, Firepaw had to do most of the work, as Graypaw and Runningwind ended up bickering most of the time.

Surprisingly, the incident hadn't dampened the relationship between Spottedleaf and Firepaw. She'd laughed afterward, saying Graypaw did 'silly things like that' all the time. She seemed completely oblivious that Firepaw had peeked, too. Best to keep it that way.

Naturally, when Sandpaw heard about it, she wasted no time in dropkicking Graypaw when he stepped into the Apprentice's cabin the night after the incident. Firepaw had stayed clear, ignoring Graypaw's cries for help and shrugging to Dustpaw. "I'm with her on this one."

So, with the wall finally finished and Firepaw's splinters healed, it was back to training.

* * *

Branches whipped at his face while he leaped, branch to branch, ducking and swinging. He paused suddenly, one foot propped up in a knothole of the tree's bark, the other resting on a thick branch. He listened intently, alert to every sound, from the rustling of the leaves to the slow gurgle of a nearby stream. Suddenly, he whipped around.

"Too slow." A needle, small and thin, suddenly peirced the fabric of his shirt and dug into his skin. Firepaw fell backwards, tumbling from the tree hitting the ground heavily with a cloud of dust. Groaning, he sat up slowly, ripping the needle from his flesh. He glared upwards to where Dustpaw stood, crouching and blinking at him. "That was a dirty trick!"

"It was perfectly fair, boy." Lionheart said, crouching on a branch behind him. Firepaw turned to look, his brows knitting together. "But he snuck up on me!"

"That's part of his strategy. Dustpaw-kun uses stealth-type tactics, you see. You were fast, but you won't be able to avoid his attacks unless you improve drastically."

Grumbling under his breath, Firepaw stood up, dusting dust off of his deerskin pants, made by Willowpelt, Graypaw's mother. He was getting tired of the talk about how he'd have to try twice as hard, since he was human. He's only just managed to learn the technique for quickly climbing trees, and was still extremely clumsy at tree-leaping.

"Let's go again." Lionheart sighed. "Firepaw, it's your turn this time. Here, you may use my dagger, don't unsheathe it though. No real fighting in training." He dropped the dagger, which Firepaw picked up with a scowl. "What about that needle?" He grumbled.

"That was just for good measure." Dustpaw smirked, his tail waving happily. He turned suddenly, disappearing into the trees. For several more seconds, Firepaw could hear him as he raced away, but then his footsteps were gone.

"Alright, you may go." Lionheart nodded, and Firepaw ran at the tree. Placing one hand, then one foot, he dug his nails in and managed to propel himself upward. Using the other pair, he scurried upward until he was perching on the branch. Without pausing, he leapt after Dustpaw, following his trail through the branches.

Grasping the dagger tightly, Firepaw searched, scouring through the canopy for any sign of the brown-haired boy. Suddenly, a flash of black from his left. Grinning, he hopped to a nearby branch, eyes wide. He was close, he knew he was...

"HYYAAAHHH!"

A sudden weight from behind knocked the breath out of him as a sandal was planted firmly between his shoulder blades. "Hey, you're not-" His attacker gasped, faltering for a moment, and the two fell from the tree.

Unbeknownst to the two, the ground beside the tree fell away into a deep, dry gorge. So, when they fell, the two tumbled down the steep cliff, bouncing on rubble and causing avalanches of small stones.

Firepaw choked, rust clogging his throat and stinging his eyes. When he finally came to a hault at the bottom of the canyon, he was too stunned to move, his eyes closed and his clothes coated in dust. When he finally collected himself, he sat up slowly, a bolt of pain shooting up his shoulder. With a weak groan, he clutched his shoulder with one hand, realizing he must have jarred the old wound when he fell.

"Firepaw? Baka!" A weak voice snapped to his left. Blinking, Firepaw looked at the crumbled shape beside him, also struggling to sit up. Sandpaw, her blond hair matted with dirt and twigs, and a furious expression on her face. "Why the hell were you there? You and Dustpaw were supposed to be training on the other side of the forest!"

Firepaw sighed, trying to his best to ignore his throbbing shoulder. "Look, it wasn't my fault. Dustpelt had come that way, and I followed him. I didn't know you'd be there."

Sandpaw grumbled under her breath, wiping a streak of mud from her pretty freckled face. "Whatever! Let's just get out of here."

"Um... how?" Firepaw cast his gaze upward. The cliff rose, steep and foreboding. He had a terrible feeling he wouldn't be able to scale it with his shoulder. "It looks too steep and high to climb."

"Well, shut up, and let's try." The girl muttered. As soon as she got to her feet however, her legs buckled underneath her, and she fell to her knees again with a soft cry.

"What's wrong?" Firepaw gasped, leaning forward.

"I'm fine!" She snapped back, her voice pained. "My ankle... I just..."

"Here, let me see it." Before she could protest, he reached out to the offending limb and held it in one hand. Taking her sandal off, he felt her foot gently, quiet as he did so. "You sprained it pretty badly..." He murmured. He'd learned how to tell from Spottedleaf, who he'd been spending quite a bit of his time with lately. "You're not going to be able to walk on it."

Sandpaw yanked her foot away, ignoring him. She pressed one hand to the cliff and forced herself to her feet again. Just as before, when she tried to put weight on the sprained foot, she fell, and Firepaw caught her.

"Here." He finally said after she'd finished cursing. He turned, wrapped his arms underneath her knees, and hefted her up on his back.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sandpaw hissed. "This is completely undignified! What if someone saw this, you baka? I can take care of myself-"

"Look, Sandpaw." Firepaw growled, turning his face so he could see her out of the corner of his eye. "Nobody else is here, and they'll understand when we get back. If you want, I'll tell them it was my fault you got hurt. Just quite worrying." He began to walk, his shoulder almost screaming in protest.

Sandpaw was silent, mulling over his words softly. "I might just take you up on that." She muttered under her breath, still blushing from the indignation of being given a piggyback ride by a human.

For fifteen minutes, Firepaw walked. It was slow progress, being weighed down both by Sandpaw and by the excruciating pain in his shoulder. Luckily, Sandpaw seemed to realize what was wrong, and kept her hand away from the offending area.

Ten more minutes passed. Firepaw was breathing rather heavily now, but he refused to stop, until Sandpaw told him she was hungry and had some food in her pack. Muttering his consent, he walked to where there were two large rocks, set her down on one, and sat at the other.

Sandpaw pulled from her pack two bottles of water, one of which she passed to Firepaw. When he gave her a questioning look, she shrugged and muttered, "You can't keep carrying me if you die of thirst." Deciding this should be taken as a compliment, Firepaw grinned and took a long gulp from the water.

She also retrieved two sticks of dried venison, one of which she also handed off to Firepaw. They didn't speak for a long time as the two nawed at the dried deer meat. "Hey, Sandpaw." Firepaw said after a moment, staring up at the clear blue sky. "What do our names mean? Sand'paw', Gray'paw'... what's the point in that?"

"Baka." The girl muttered. "In our ancient culture, cats were worshipped for their speed, stealth, and wisdom of the world. That was back before our people were cursed. I'm sure you've heard of that by now. So we took parts of their names that were special to us and used them. The 'paw' in an apprentice's name stands for the path they walk, how they need only to fill their own pawsteps. 'Kit' stands for kitten."

Firepaw nodded. That was similar to what he'd thought. "So, what about your culture? How did that come about?"

"Well, after we were cursed, Nekos traveled to Japan. That was the only place we were welcome. They sheltered us, and we learned their culture. Then the other humans found out, and were about to invade our new home, so we took boats and traveled back here, to the forest. Of course, the Japanese put a spell on us to aid our travels and make it so humans couldn't see us anymore." She lifted one eyebrow at Firepaw. "Well, besides the freaks, of course."

Firepaw only laughed.

When the two finished, Firepaw scooped Sandpaw up again, ignoring her mumblings about how she could walk on her own now. Twenty minutes, and Firepaw didn't mind. He felt strength in his stride, and he'd managed to make Sandpaw laugh twice. "Hey, Firepaw," she muttered after a long silence. "You don't have to tell them me getting hurt was your fault. I don't care."

"I'll just say it was an accident." He grinned kindly. "It doesn't really matter, anyway."

"Hey!" Sandpaw suddenly pointed forward, and Firepaw looked up to see a collapsed edge of the cliff. "Alright!" He walked quicker to the base of the eroded area. "You ready?"

"Wait, what are you doing? Are you really going to try and climb that with be on your back? Firepaw- ah!"

Firepaw laughed as he stepped over the small rocks and hopped onto the larger ones. Sandpaw's hands were wrapped around his neck the whole time while she whispered, "Dear StarClan! Dear StarClan! You idiot!"

When they finally reached the top, Firepaw looked at the girl over his shoulder. "See? That wasn't too bad."

"Wasn't too bad? You weren't the one on top, you baka!"

"Is that your favorite word or something? What's it mean, anyway?"

"It means idiot, idiot!"

"Oh. Suddenly everything you've ever said makes sense." The two laughed, all tension having melted away over the walk. Firepaw treaded on through the woods, searching for any sign of his Clanmates. A brown-haired boy suddenly landed in front of him, and Dustpaw stood upright, his eyes narrowed. "Where have you two been? You disappeared hours ago!"

"Really?" Firepaw blinked. "It didn't seem very long."

"Seriously." Sandpaw peered over his shoulder, shooting Dustpaw an indignant look. "You've got bees in your brain, Dustpaw."

The other boy seethed silently, secretly jealous that Sandpaw appeared to be siding with the human. "Why're you on his back, anyway?" He grumbled.

Sandpaw didn't answer, not quite sure how to answer without damaging her pride. Luckily, Firepaw saved her. "She sprained her ankle when I knocked her down the cliff over there." He gestured vaguely. "It was an accident, but you know, my fault."

Dustpaw muttered under his breath and turned, gesturing for them to follow him back to camp. Sandpaw glared at Firepaw. "I told you not to tell him that." She hissed.

"I wanted to." Firepaw smiled. "I'm not the one with my reputation on the line, am I?"

Sandpaw was silent, but finally nodded. "I guess." She muttered, resting her chin on his good shoulder.

* * *

**EEEEEEE SANDFIRE.**

**Yay.**

**My reviewers are: Scarheart of DarkClan, NerdPrincess101, sky651, Mothstar, Nightkill, and Sparkheart of ThunderClan. XD Thanks, you guys! It's because of you I keep updating.**

**Please review? On top of inspiring me to update, I may just make my chapters longer, or use your ideas! XD**


	11. Chapter 10: Seeing Silver

**Random Character Info Box**

**Name: Brokenstar**

**Species: Neko**

**Birthday: October 31**

**Age: 31**

**Height: 194 cm (6'4")**

**Weight: 90 kg (200 lbs)**

**Affiliation: ShadowClan**

**Occupation: Leader**

**Known Family: Raggedstar, his deceased father who was leader before him.**

**Appearence: A handsome-featured man with olive-toned skin (like the rest of ShadowClan) and long, thin black hair that cuts off jaggedly at his shoulders. He has a thin, cruel face, crooked nose, pointed chin, and high cheekbones. His ears are large and shredded from many battles. His small, narrow eyes are a dark misty amber. His tail tail is long, shaggy, and bent in the middle like a broken branch. Numerous scars cover his body from years of ruthless battle.**

**Attire: Brokenstar's usual attire consists of a simple black jumpsuit that covers him from neck to feet. This outfit is usually only used for ambushes, ShadowClan's signature attack style, but he developed the habit of wearing the suit at most times as a symbol of his Clan's willingness to attack.**

**Personality: Soft-voiced, charismatic, and with a charming smile that could melt tension in an instant, Brokenstar is truly one of the most dangerous Nekos to ever walk the forest. Beneath a thin layer of false pretenses, he is an incredibly cruel and sadistic individual that rules over his Clan with the power of a tyrant, willing to take all he can from other Clans and even his own Clanmates. His seductive smirk is the only true signal one would have of his unsateable bloodlust before they received a knife in the gut. By focusing his Clan's strength on war and training, he neglects their basic needs for shelter and even food. Little else is known about the leader of ShadowClan, only that those who enter his lair never return.**

**Theme Song: Chop Suey by System of a Down**

* * *

**Honorific Guide**

**-sama: "one of high rank", or in this case, "leader", or "revered"**

**-taichou: "captain", or in this case, "deputy"**

**-san: "adult", formal, used between equals, or as light respect from a younger person, as in 'Mr.' and 'Miss' in the English language. Also can be used between spouses.**

**-chan: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used as an endearing term for one who is thought of as cute or childlike. Also can be used to address a female one shares a strong bond with, whether it be romantic or friendship.**

**-kun: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used to address one of a junior status, as in a leader addressing a young warrior. Also can be used to address a male one shares a strong bond with, whether it be romantic or friendship.**

**-Senpai: "upperclassman", so can be used in an apprentice addressing a warrior.**

**-Sensei: "teacher", so can be used as an apprentice addressing their mentor.**

**-hoshi: "Buddhist Priest", or in this case, "Healer"**

**Note: When honorifics are not used, it usually means the two know each other well enough to not engage in formalities. Could also be used as a sign of disrespect, if the particular person is of very high rank.**

* * *

"The Gathering? What's that?"

Both Graypaw and Dustpaw turned to look at the orange-haired boy strangely. They'd been talking for some time, and Firepaw had zoned out at some point in the conversation and was alerted when Graypaw said something about the Gathering being tonight. Dustpaw snorted distastefully, taking a sip of broth from the tightly-woven grass bowl he held. "Oh, right. Nobody expects _you_ to know what it is, human."

The others ignored him bluntly while Graypaw explained. "All four Clans of the forest gather once every full moon under a truce. Mostly, it's a time for news to be shared among the Clans and for trades to be made. Not everything in our camp is made here in ThunderClan, you know. Every Clan has their own industry."

Firepaw nodded slowly, staring down at the pale broth in the bowl. Afternoon sunlight beat down on the three apprentices, turning Firepaw's hair to flame. He looked around at the camp, at the people who were gathered outside to enjoy supper. Since Sandpaw hadn't been able to hunt because of her sprained ankle, Firepaw had to admit they weren't eating quite as well as they had been. "So, who usually goes to the Gathering?"

"Anyone Bluestar chooses." Dustpaw told him icily. The two hadn't been on the best of terms since Sandpaw's accident. "Sandpaw-sama won't be able to go because of you. And this was to be her first Gathering as head of the Kuro family."

Firepaw rolled his eyes in response. Dustpaw tended to be rather blind when it came to his charge, speaking for Sandpaw even though it was painstakingly obvious that she could take care of herself. She'd even confided in Firepaw once, when Dustpaw wasn't around. He had listened, willing to give whatever advice he could.

She'd revealed that she was in fact relieved that she wouldn't be going to the Gathering. She told him it was a cruel custom, introducing her as head of the Kuro family when Redtail's death was still hanging over her like a heavy shadow. Before Firepaw could agree with her, tell her that it indeed wasn't fair, she'd waved him away, apparently deciding it wasn't something she needed help with.

Even now, he deeply wished she'd allowed him to speak with her. Underneath Dustpaw's cold judgement, she wasn't getting the support she needed to become the powerful woman the head of the Kuro family was supposed to be. Firepaw was getting a new idea of what it meant to be tied by blood, in this case blood that was as pure as a warrior's could get.

"Oi, minions! Listen up and gather 'neath the Highrock, or I'll sic Tigerclaw on you." Bluestar called suddenly from atop the massive stone. Around her shoulders she wore what appeared to be the pelt of a lion, the symbol of ThunderClan, as he'd learned from Whitestorm. Firepaw still couldn't get over just how fast the woman could move, sitting comfortable at the edge of the rock in just a matter of seconds. Several laughs broke out at the leader's easy banter as the Clan gathered loosely at the foot of the rock.

"Alright, for the Gathering tonight..." Bluestar narrowed her ice-blue eyes as she surveyed her gathered Clan. "I want Leo-kun," she pointed to Lionheart, whose ears twitched in amusement. "Whitey-chan," Whitestorm rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Runningperv," Runningwind opened his mouth in protest to the new nickname that he'd received after the incident in the bathhouse, but shut it quickly when he got a pointed glare from Mousefur.

"Frostbite," Frostfur nodded. "Willowgiant," Willowpelt snorted, muttering under her breath about how she wasn't that tall. "Longego," several laughs broke out at this one, though Longtail didn't seem amused.

"Darkstalker," Darkstripe emerged from the shadows, looking rather stalkerish. "Smallear-san, Tiggyclaw, Specklytail, Spottedleaf-chan, Patchpelt-san, and... Moptop and Flamey boy." She pointed to Graypaw and Firepaw last.

This announcement was met immediately by protests. "Bluestar!" Tigerclaw called out, pushing himself to the front of the crowd and looking up at his leader with barely masked fury. "With all due respect, that cannot be a wise decision. The human will never be accepted by the other Clans! You absolutely cannot provoke them this way-"

"Hey Tigerclaw, guess what?"

"...What?"

"Shut up." Bluestar hopped down from the rock, landing on the warrior's head before she hopped again onto the ground. "Look, we don't know if they'll except him if we never try. This is as good a time as any." Her eyes narrowed to slits as she looked over her shoulder at the tall, brown-haired man. "I know what I'm doing, Tigerclaw. It's time you realized that." Hushed silence fell upon the Clan. Firepaw watched, increasingly suspicious of the warrior's intentions as he kept Bluestar's gaze. Finally, Tigerclaw bowed his head in surrender, and Bluestar smirked. "Well! Good to know we're all on the same page! Let's get goin', minions!"

The selected group began to gather while the rest of the Clan circulated the camp, going to their cabins or the hot springs. Lionheart walked up behind Firepaw and put on sturdy hand on his shoulder. "Stay close to us." He told him gruffly. "The other Clans won't welcome you as warmly as Bluestar did, I'm afraid. Follow Graypaw, if possible. He's well-liked with the apprentices, so they should leave you alone if they see you're his friend." Firepaw nodded and watched the Deputy fall into step beside Bluestar as the group began to file out of the camp.

"What did Lionheart-taichou say?" Graypaw asked as he fell back beside Firepaw. "He was just warning me to stay close to the rest of the Clan." Firepaw answered. "Apparently, they're not going to like me much." Graypaw laughed in response, though he stopped shortly when Willowpelt gave him a sharp glance. Leaning in to whisper to Firepaw, he muttered, "Yeah, the old queen's mad at me. Apparently I'm not serious enough about Gatherings." The gray-haired boy rolled his eyes. "I'm not that likely to cause trouble, am I?"

"I really can't tell if that was sarcasm or not." Was Firepaw's only reply.

The walk to the Gathering was dull, to say the least. The adults were solemn, their ears pricked and their tails waving in agitation, as though worried something may leap out of the forest at any moment. Firepaw realized, with a stab of guilt, that he was the reason they were so on edge. It was because of him that they could potentially be in danger from the other Clans. Even Graypaw was unusually quiet, staring out into the woods and his shoulder brushing Firepaw's. Once, he tripped, and the entire group stopped nervously, unwilling to go ahead without him. Firepaw helped him to his feet though, and they were on their way again.

When the trees finally began to thin out, Firepaw sensed they were getting close. "Hey Graypaw, how many people will be there?"

"Hm? Oh, well, uh... usually somewhere over a hundred..."

"A hundred? But we only have fourteen!"

"Well, we're the smallest Clan at the moment. That, and our industry is small. We don't need that many people to man the stands. Then there's the issue of protection back at camp... basically, for a powerful Clan like ShadowClan, thirty people is no problem. Their industry supports more than ours."

Before he could ask any more questions, the woods cleared out completely, and the small group was standing at the edge of what appeared to be a massive hollow. In the center of the area there was an enormous boulder, flanked on either side by four majestic oak trees that swayed in the spring breeze. Below, people milled about between wooden and metal carts, holding bundles of whatever they were trading. Standing on the boulder were three people, who Firepaw assumed to be the other Leaders.

Willowpelt approached the two boys and held out both of her hands. She gave them three coins each, plain little circles that appeared to be made out of copper. "Spend it wisely." She told them, giving Graypaw a particularly stern look. "Graypaw, please try to contain yourself." Graypaw laughed nervously in response, grabbed Firepaw by the wrist, any together the group flooded down into the clearing.

Graypaw was greeted immeidately by a flood of apprentices from other Clans (mostly female), who carried him off and left Firepaw on his own. Honestly, he couldn't say he was surprised. It would give him time to check out the other Clans and explore without any restrictions. Silently thanking the mob of apprentices, Firepaw set off around the Gathering on his own. Starkly aware of the glances he got from other people, most of which were angry or confused, he quickly scoped out what Graypaw meant by each Clan having its own industry.

RiverClan worked with beauty. Clothing, jewelry, home decorations, all were made in their camp. That was actually where much of ThunderClan's more expensive items came from. As he passed some of the women from the Clan, he couldn't help admiring their elegant dresses of woven fishscales that shimmered in the moonlight and the brightly-colored ribbons in their hair. All warriors of RiverClan wore a necklace similar to a ThunderClan warriors', though instead of a lightning emblem, theirs was a rippling pattern.

ShadowClan made their living in metalwork. Weapons were crafted there, and tended to be extremely expensive. Passing some of the members of the Clan, Firepaw noticed that the apprentices appeared much too small to be training already. Most were utterly childlike, with wide innocent eyes and spindly limbs. Graypaw had said they were succesful, hadn't he? Than why were they starving? Despite this, as he browsed weapons made by a warrior named Nightpelt, he had to admit their industry was superb. The symbol on their necklace was an X, which was strangely colored black on a few of the warriors.

Because WindClan resided on a moor, they specialized in livestock and also made most of the raids to human encampments. They were strong, lithe, and wiry, with dark skin. At today's Gathering, several cows were up for bidding, and that was where most people were at. The possibility of fresh milk was rare for them. The WindClan symbol was a single swirl.

ThunderClan's poor industry happened to be education. Books, manuals, all were discarded by the other Clans. Firepaw supposed it was because the books ThunderClan scholars wrote were mostly about times when the Clans had worked together, and usually that was the last thing the other Clans wanted to do. ThunderClan had useless information in their eyes, though Firepaw couldn't disagree more. He thought it was wonderful that they remembered truces and allies of the past.

While walking, something caught his eye. Approaching a table with items from RiverClan, he found at the stand two small silver bells with loops that were meant to be slipped over the tail. He immediately thought of Spottedleaf, though it was ridiculous. Someone like Spottedleaf that cared so little for looks would have no desire for such vanities. Even so, he could just imagine her face when he gave them to her. He picked them up gingerly, and they made a tiny tinkling sound so sweet he smiled. "How much for them?" He asked the woman behind the stand, who was glaring at him suspiciously.

"They for you, human?" She sneered, apparently thinking herself very clever.

"No, they're not." Firepaw smiled brightly, honestly in too good of a mood upon his discovery to mind her attitude. "They're for Spottedleaf-san, if you must know. You know, Healer of ThunderClan."

"I know who Spottedleaf is." The woman snapped, scowling. This boy's attitude was rather annoying. "You stayin' with ThunderClan, then? Heh. Don't surprise me. Bluestar softened them up, she did. She's getting senile, the old coot."

"Who's an old coot?" Bluestar asked suddenly, approaching from behind Firepaw, who jumped in surprise. The Leader wrapped her arms around the boy's neck from behind, grinning sweetly at the woman behind the stand. "Senile, too? Well, missy, let me tell you, just because it's a Gathering I'm not afraid to strangle you with your own bosoms." She let go of Firepaw, who was blushing brightly in embarassment, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Now, I believe he asked you how much those bells were for."

The woman mumbled under her breath, obviously ashamed to have been caught by the leader of ThunderClan. And threatened. "Seven pieces. They're pure silver." She answered.

Firepaw's face fell immediately. "I only have three." He said dejectedly, holding out the coins.

"I'll pay for the rest." Bluestar told him, slapping down money of her own on the table. "There you go, boy. They're all yours." With that, the Leader turned and disappeared within an instant. Turning back to the woman, he saw she was scowling. She gled out the bells to him, and he took them gratefully. With a small bow, he turned and headed back to the rest of his Clan, which was crowded in a small area that was designated for ThunderClan's stands.

Just as he reached them, a voice rang out over the clearing. "Settle down, everybody! The Gathering will now officially begin!" The voice came from an old man on top of the giant rock, his shoulders wrapped in a cheetah skin and his long black-and-white tail waving out behind him. WindClan's leader, Tallstar. As silence began to fall on the clearing, the man began to speak again.

"WindClan has been faring well," he began. "Ashfoot has recently given birth to her son, Eaglekit." Murmers of congratulations issued from the crowd. "As most of you probably noticed, our cattle production this years has been up quite a bit, so prices will be lowered within the next few moons. More raids will also be made, so place orders on medical supplies while you can. That is all." Tallstar stepped back, nodding to a man at his side.

This man was huge, muscular, with pale hair and a crooked jaw. The skin he wore was a leopard's. Crookedstar, Leader of RiverClan. "RiverClan's pearl harvesting will not be as abundant as last year, I'm afraid." He said in a deep, slightly slurred voice. "Floods have caused damage that must be covered before any such activities take place. Overall though, prey has been running well, and we are strong." He stepped back as well, gesturing another man forward.

This man was frightening, to say the least. His dark hair swept back, the skin of a tiger wrapped around his black-clothed torso, and his brutally handsome face emotionless. His tail, crooked in the middle like a broken branch, was still behind him. He was Brokenstar, Leader of ShadowClan. "ShadowClan has no news to report." Was all he said, which was met with mutterings from the crowd about how ShadowClan never had any news, even when there was news.

Bluestar was up next, and wasted no time getting to the point. "Yo, guys! We've got a human in ThunderClan now! Way over there! Yup, the one with the orange hair! Hi, Firepaw!" She waved enthusiastically, and the crowd broke out into laughter over the boy's embarrased expression. Bluestar really was the only one who could pull off not starting a riot over an otherwise serious situation. "Yeah... well, you guys probably aren't too happy about that. But because I am Leader and therefor overrule all of you, I don't care! Thank you!"

"Bluestar." Crookedstar's eyes narrowed. "This is serious. Why in StarClan's name would you let a human into your Clan? He can't be any good for hunting or fighting. If anything, he'll only cause harm."

"Are you trying to tell me how to run my Clan?" Bluestar's voice dropped to a deadly whisper, and all humor was gone from her face. "I invited him on my own wisdom. Wisdom that exists, mind you. I will run my Clan the way I see fit, and I just happened to see him fit."

There were no more arguments after that. Bluestar leapt from the boulder, and one by one the other Leaders did the same. As the Clans began to clear out, Graypaw approached him, apparently having spent the entire time with the mop of other apprentices. "Wow," he laughed, clapping him on the shoulder upon seeing the bells. "Who're those for, lover boy?"

"Nobody!" Firepaw said defensively, yanking them away.

"So you bought them for yourself?"

"No, I didn't!"

"That's what you just said, though..."

Firepaw glared at him for the longest time, but it was really difficult to stay angry with him. "Whatever." He muttered. "They're for Spottedleaf, okay?"

"Nice." Graypaw laughed.

* * *

**No updates made reviewers sad. DX Sorry about that, guys. I had other stories, and this one just kind of fell to the back.**

**Ermyes.**

**Reviewers: Skylar of Gryffindor, Scarheart of DarkClan, Nightkill, Mothstar, Sparkheart of ThunderClan, Echosky of ThunderClan, littlemisslibrarian, Light Tegami, winterthaw of thunderclan, rain, SandFire, Larcka the white wolf, and Anon.**

**That is all. o3o**

**Review? X3**


	12. Chapter 11: Resolve!

**Random Character Info Box**

**Name: Yellowfang**

**Species: Neko**

**Birthday: December 25**

**Age: 65**

**Height: 163 cm (5'5")**

**Weight: 69 kg (152 lbs)**

**Affiliation: ShadowClan**

**Occupation: Healer**

**Known Family: None**

**Appearence: A sour-faced old woman with numerable scars across her wrinkled skin. One of her bottom incisors is prominently out of line and is always visible even when she has her mouth closed. She has long, ruffled gray hair that is usually kept back in a messy ponytail. Her ears are small, her tail shaggy and ragged. Her narrow, sharp eyes are dark yellow.**

**Attire: Yellowfang dresses in the standard Healer uniform for her Clan, which is a black kimono laced with swirls of golden fabric. The leaf emblem on her Healer's necklace is painted black, as Brokenstar decreed it should be. She also wears a dark, threadbare cowl over her shoulders.**

**Personality: An extremely intelligent and quick-witted individual, Yellowfang has a sharp tongue that is quick to deliver a stinging retort or insult. She demands respect from and does not take well to ungrateful patients, though she has a soft spot for impudent children. Despite her gruff exterior and prickly nature, Yellowfang has a strong sense of justice and seeks to make amends for the wrongs of her past.**

**Theme Song: Honeythief by Halou**

* * *

**Honorific Guide**

**-sama: "one of high rank", or in this case, "leader", or "revered"**

**-taichou: "captain", or in this case, "deputy"**

**-san: "adult", formal, used between equals, or as light respect from a younger person, as in 'Mr.' and 'Miss' in the English language. Also can be used between spouses.**

**-chan: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used as an endearing term for one who is thought of as cute or childlike. Also can be used to address a female one shares a strong bond with, whether it be romantic or friendship.**

**-kun: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used to address one of a junior status, as in a leader addressing a young warrior. Also can be used to address a male one shares a strong bond with, whether it be romantic or friendship.**

**-Senpai: "upperclassman", so can be used in an apprentice addressing a warrior.**

**-Sensei: "teacher", so can be used as an apprentice addressing their mentor.**

**-hoshi: "Buddhist Priest", or in this case, "Healer"**

**Note: When honorifics are not used, it usually means the two know each other well enough to not engage in formalities. Could also be used as a sign of disrespect, if the particular person is of very high rank.**

* * *

"Is that all you've got, boy?" Bluestar twirled the sword she held in her hand before planting it in the ground and leaning her elbow against it. She watched silently as Firepaw struggled to his feet, panting as he recovered from a sharp blow to his head. She sighed, shaking her head in mock dissapointment. Just the other day, the Leader had decreed that Firepaw would be her apprentice, much to the shock of the Clan. Now, at their very first training session, she was wearing him down to the point of utter exhaustion. Still, everytime she knocked him down, he stood again. She was actually quite impressed with his resilience, but it was neccesary that she maintain an air of indifference for the training. "Now I understand why the other Clans don't want you in the Clan," she taunted. "You're weak."

Firepaw ignored the insult, only reached for his own sword as he stood. "I thought you fought with knives." He muttered, rubbing his head ruefully. "How come you're so good with a sword, too?"

"I'm Leader." Bluestar answered, rolling her eyes as she rested her cheek in her hand. "I kind of have to be sufficiently trained in all weapons. You know, spur of the moment kind of thing. I have to be able to use whatever resources are available at that time." She tugged the sword out of the ground in one swift movement and pointed it again at the young boy, her face solemn as a faint breeze ruffled her gray-blue hair. "Come at me again, kid. Let's see if you can do it this time."

Clenching his teeth, Firepaw tightened his grip on the sword. He charged forward, analyzing swiftly the angle of his opponent, the most vulnerable parts of the body, and swiveled to the side before Bluestar could swing the sword. However, before he could fully dodge the attack, she angled the blade midswing. His eyes widening, Firepaw raised his sword, blocking the attack. Sparks flew to the ground as the metal clashed. Bluestar pushed against him, knocking him off balance. When he hit the ground, he stayed on his back, and as the second strike came down, he held the sword up to block it again. Suddenly, as the strain grew almost too great for him to bear, the sword broke. Straight down the middle, while Firepaw watched in shocked horror as Bluestar's own sword sliced through it like butter. There was no time to move, no time to do anything as the sharp metal met with his chest.

Blood splattered the ground as Bluestar's sword ripped away, leaving Firepaw on the ground, gasping for breath. Bluestar lowered her sword and eyed him coldly, watching as he rolled on to his side painfully, his eyes shut tightly as blood darkened the ground beneath him. He opened his eyes slowly, watching Bluestar as she rose her own sword, high above her head. His eyes widened. Was she going to kill him? Did she really think he was too weak? Was there no point in keeping him here anymore?

"Do you know why you're weak, boy?" Bluestar murmured, the silver blade catching the light of the sun and sending golden reflections over the woods around them. "Do you know why your sword broke so easily?" Firepaw briefly glanced at the shattered remnants of his sword, the only part left intact being the worn leather hilt. "It's because your resolve is so weak." She told him. "Your sword will only ever be as strong as your resolve." When Firepaw's brows furrowed in confusion, she sighed. "When you attack, you are afraid to cut me. When you defend, you are afraid of being cut. And when you protect someone, you are afraid you will let them die." She shook her head, her eyes narrowed to ice-blue slits. "That is not how a true warrior thinks."

Firepaw listened in awe, unable to move, hardly able to breathe, but hanging on to every word she spoke. "When you protect someone, you don't let them die. When you defend, you don't let them cut you. And when you attack..." she brought the sword down so quickly, it was a silvery blur. Suddenly it was infront of his face, right between his eyes. "...You kill."

The sword lowered to her side again, the blue-haired woman turned her back on the orange-haired boy. "So, tell me, boy... how strong is your resolve? To what lengths will you go to protect this Clan? To protect me? Graypaw? Sandpaw? Spottedleaf?" She looked over her shoulder, the smallest hint of a smile on her lips. "Or will you just die there, bleeding your life into the grass, only to be eaten by vultures and foxes?" The Leader began to walk, the blade of her sword trailing in the ground behind her. "Remember. Your sword is only as strong as your resolve, and your resolve is only as strong as your heart." He watched her helplessly as she walked away. She was going to leave him here to die. All that he'd worked for up till this point would be in vain, because he'd been too weak.

He turned his head slowly, finding again the glinting pieces of his sword, scattered through the grass. The hilt. A bit of the blade was left, wasn't it? Yes, there had to be. But what could he do? His vision was swimming as he tried to focus on his goal, as his fingers reached in vain for the crude leather. He willed his body to move, tried to summon all the strength he had left in his limbs. With a great effort, he rolled over on to his stomach. His fingers curled around the hilt like a hawk's talons. Blood was pumping freely from the wound, but he could no longer feel the pain as he picked up the broken weapon. Yes, there was still a slab of the blade left there. Staring at it, he thought about what Bluestar said. To what lengths would he go, to protect his new home...?

Bluestar heard him as he forced himself to his knees, and finally to his feet. She turned slowly, seeing him standing defiantly, the broken hilt grasped tightly in his hand. Blood dripped steadily on to the ground beneath him. He was obviously exhausted. But there was something different about him now, about the way he held himself, his forest-green eyes calm and burning. He raised the hilt slowly, pointing that shard of blade at the ThunderClan Leader. Then he charged. Bluestar hardly had time to raise her own sword before he was on her, and the grinding of metal split the air. Though he was obviously weak, hardly able to stand, he was holding his own now, even pushing her back as power surged through his blade. This was the most alive he'd ever felt, confidence radiating through him as the true power of his resolve glowed in his eyes.

Then he faltered. One moment, he was fighting with all the force of LionClan, and then the next, the sword slipped from his hands. Bluestar dropped her own and hardly had time to catch him before he fell. "That's enough." She grinned, hefting the boy over her shoulder like a sack of flour. Without even bothering to pick the swords up from off the ground, she began walking in the direction of the camp. "You did well." She told him quietly, her voice uncharacteristically serious. "I'm not gonna lie, I'm impressed. You've got the makings of a true warrior, kid." She was silent for the long time. She knew he could hear him. He was straining to hear every word she said, fighting the darkness in his eyes. "But you need to remember... sometimes your resolve will weaken. It happens to the best of us. You'll find yourself scared to death of a powerful opponent, or stressed out, or something like that. That's when most warriors fail. I think you can overcome that, though. Remember, Firepaw; if you hesitate, you die. If you let down your guard, you die. You've gotta stay strong."

* * *

"I can't believe you're in here _again_." Ravenpaw laughed nervously, sitting up in his own cot when Firepaw awoke the next morning. The black-haired boy's wide eyes were constantly darting back and forth, as though he was perpetually afraid of some unseen force. His wounds were healed, Spottedleaf had said. But for reasons unbenknownst to any of them, he insisted on staying away from training for as long as possible. Spottedleaf had covered for him, thinking it had something to do with the mental strain of the battle. In the time of his recovery, he'd been visited quite a few times by both Graypaw and Firepaw, since Firepaw insisted on seeing Spottedleaf as often as possible. "I'm surprised you didn't die." Ravenpaw continued, watching Firepaw's eyes blink open slowly. "Spottedleaf-hoshi said that wound wasn't deep, but it was bleeding a lot..."

"I'm fine." Firepaw muttered, sitting up slowly. He could practically still feel the hilt gripping tightly in his hands, adrenaline pulsing through his veins, the sheer force of his resolve driving him on. But the illusion was soon gone, replaced with the aching in his chest and weariness. "Where's Spottedleaf-san, anyway?" He asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "And how long have I been out?"

"Well, I'm not really sure where Spottedleaf-hoshi is at the moment." Ravenpaw mused, on of his ears twitching. "But you've only been unconcious for a couple hours now. It's almost time for supper. By the way, what happened?" He tilted his head to the side, his normally listless eyes bright as he spoke to one of his only true friends. "You were training with Bluestar, right? I don't understand how you got so beat up. I mean sure, Bluestar's a bit eccentric, but I didn't think she'd go so far as almost killing you..."

"She was teaching me something very important." Firepaw answered. "I just learned through some trial and error."

The gentle tinkling of bells signaled Spottedleaf's approach as she opened the door and stepped in, pulling a cart of medical supplies behind her. "I'm sorry it took me so long," she said, smiling apoligetically at Firepaw. "Our supplies have been low, so I had to place an emergency order at the last Gathering. They just arrived today, thankfully, so you should be up and about in no time..." She was quiet then, shuffling around in the concoctions, checking each one for the correct label. The two silver bells Firepaw had gotten her at the Gathering were still on her tail, as she'd worn them every day. Many complimented her on them, saying it was about time a girl so beautiful began caring about her looks. She would only laugh, saying they were a gift she just happened to be quite fond of. "Bluestar really did a number on you, didn't she?" Spottedleaf laughed.

"Yeah, she did."

* * *

Firepaw was up in several days, just as Spottedleaf suggested. He was still somewhat unsteady, but Bluestar insisted he go ahead with the solo hunting session scheduled for each of the apprentices. Armed with a slingshot, he was sent off to Tallpines, where he was ordered to bring back a rabbit. Whitestorm led him there, all the while quizing him on hunting techniques and proper alignment with the wind when stalking. He complied to the older man's concerns, knowing he was proud of the boy's accomplishments and wished for him to do well in order to gain the trust of the rest of the Clan.

Now, bathed in shadows of early morning, Firepaw crept across the dew-laden ground. The pines offered sparse cover, though the soft bed of pine needles beneath him muted each footfall. Still he was unused to hunting with no undergrowth to conceal his bright hair. It was when he heard the harsh bray of a doe in pain that he bolted upright, scaring away a squirrel that had apparently been sitting close by. Ignoring the rodent, he launched forward towards to source of the noise. He heard another cry, this time quieter and more strained, before is descended into an eerie silence. Firepaw burst into a clearing of the woods, where he saw the source of the noise.

An elderly woman, her scraggly gray hair falling over a tattered black cowl over her shoulders, turned slowly to look at him. Her hands were folded inside the sleeves of her kimono, and at her feet lay the lifeless body of a young doe. The woman's dark yellow eyes narrowed as the boy approached. "You're that human Bluestar spoke about." Her voice was gravelly and dark, though her expression suggested she had a faint interest in him. "You're quite a bit smaller up close." She observed. "What Bluestar saw in you, I certainly don't see."

Firepaw's eyes narrowed, and he reached for the dagger in his pocket that was mandatory for all apprentices to have. "Who are you?" He demanded, slipping the dagger from its sheathe and holding it out in front of him defensively. "And why are you on my Clan's territory?"

"I am Yellowfang." The old woman answered, not moving. "I am Healer of ShadowClan. As to why I am here, it is nothing a boy like yourself should concern yourself with. Now if you don't mind, I would like to take this here doe, perhaps a squirrel or two, and leave."

"Not a chance!" Firepaw retorted, his eyes blazing as he readied himself for the inevitable fight.

* * *

**Yurhur. I've had that scene with Bluestar planned out from the very beginning. XD Did you like it?**

**I'm not gonna list my reviewers, 'cause I'm lazy. You know who you are. Thank you. X3**

**Review? o3o Plz?**


	13. Chapter 12: Awakened Fire

**Random Character Info Box**

**Name: Lionheart**

**Species: Neko**

**Birthday: April 4**

**Age: 57**

**Height: 213 cm (6'5")**

**Weight: 109 kg (210 lbs)**

**Affiliation: ThunderClan**

**Occupation: Deputy**

**Known Family: Goldenflower, his younger sister.**

**Appearance: Extremely tall, muscular man with a deep and booming voice that commands respect. He has shaggy golden hair that falls around his face like a lion's mane and small, rounded ears. His eyes are dark amber, and his tail is very bushy and laced through with tabby stripes.**

**Attire: Lionheart usually wears a dark green muscle shirt and a simple pair of camouflage trousers. He specializes in strength-type tactics, so his weapon of choice is a simple wooden mace. **

**Personality: Strong, steadfast, and fatherly, Lionheart is an ideal deputy because he keeps his priorities in check and always puts the Clan before himself. He is a wonderful mentor, though like everybody, tends to get quite fed up with Graypaw's antics. Overall a very well-respected and powerful individual.**

**Theme Song: Unknown Soldier by Breaking Benjamin**

* * *

There was a time when other Clans would bow before ThunderClan, Bluestar had once told him. With their seemingly infinite wisdom and understanding, others feared them because in their minds, knowledge was power. But then came a kind leader with only the best intentions at heart came along. He spoke words of compassion and modesty, swaying even the most battle-hungry of warriors to a life of pacifism. But alas, this magnificent leader could not handle the burden, for his will was weak. In his old age he left the woods behind, never to be heard from again. Bluestar referred to this man as Pinestar, father of Tigerclaw, and the beginning of the weakening of ThunderClan. The other Clans lost respect for the ThunderClan warriors, called them cowards, laughed because their leader had abandoned them.

So it was no wonder that Yellowfang didn't take the charging apprentice seriously. She hardly even batted an eye as he thrust his dagger forward, aiming for the ribcage of the elderly woman. All she had to do was raise one arm, and before he got even close to his mark, she gripped him by the wrist. Time seemed to stand still as Firepaw stared uncomprehendingly at his hand that had been stopped so easily, at the dagger that clattered soundlessly to the ground. The next thing he was concious of was being flung through the air, propelled by the surprisingly powerful knee of the old woman. He rolled on the ground several times before coming to a stop and forcing himself to his feet again. Angry at having been humiliated, he charged again, this time with nothing as a weapon but his fists. Again the blow was deflected, this time by a counter punch to his face.

"You're not at your full strength, boy." Yellowfang observed, scoffing as the apprentice fell back. "What did Bluestar say your name was, anyway? Stupidpaw?"

Firepaw's eye twitched as Yellowfang threw her head back and laughed loudly. "That wasn't even funny." He muttered. "And my name is Firepaw. Bluestar is my mentor."

"Well, of course she is." Yellowfang snorted, the battle forgotten. "Nobody else could teach an uppity little human like you. I'm just surprised she has the patience for you. You obviously don't learn very quickly." She leaned forward, glowering at the apprentice. "I could tell, you didn't even try to read my movements or figure out what you'd done wrong the second time you attacked. You think you can learn through trial and error. If somebody tried to teach you a new technique, you'd most likely forget about it the moment you go into battle." At Firepaw's indignant expression, she raised her hands in mock innocence. "I'm just saying. Your growth rate is slow, and that will hamper your abilities in battle when you need to be analyzing your opponent and thinking of a way to knock them off guard. You're too impulsive."

Firepaw walked to where the dagger had landed and picked it up quickly. "Just shut up." He muttered. "We're supposed to be fighting, not talking."

"Fiiiiiiiiiirrrrreeeeepaaaaaaw~~!" A huge weight suddenly slammed into him from behind, and Firepaw was propelled forward as Graypaw perched on his back. On his stomach now, he groaned, and Graypaw tilted his head to the side while his large ears pricked. "Hm? Fiiiiirepaw? You okay? Fiiiiiiiiiiiirepaw?" He stepped off of his friends back, then looked over at Yellowfang. He blinked, looking first at the ShadowClan healer than back at his fellow apprentice. "Oh, were you fighting?"

"No shit, dumbass!" Firepaw snapped, leaping to his feet and pointing accussingly at the gray-haired boy. "And if you hadn't shown up, I would've gotten a really cool and dramatic line in! I should be kicking her ass right now!"

"Well, sorrreeeee!" Graypaw retorted hotly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Lionheart-taichou was looking for you, 'cause you wandered out of your designated hunting site. You should be thanking me for even caring what happened to you!" While the two argued, three thin needles suddenly whizzed from the trees behind them. Yellowfang staggered and fell as the needles pierced her neck, and Dustpaw leapt from the trees. Lionheart followed him, picking Yellowfang up and gesturing for Dustpaw to grab the deer. The other two apprentices were still arguing, so when he passed, Lionheart grabbed Graypaw by the collar of his shirt and dragged him along behind them, Firepaw following.

* * *

"Explain again!" Bluestar exclaimed, pointing at Lionheart for added emphasis. Firepaw and Graypaw sat on either side of the deputy while he explained yet again what had happened with Firepaw and Yellowfang. Firepaw had to resist the urge to ask why, if he'd been watching the entire time, he hadn't helped him in the fight.

"So..." She looked at Firepaw. "You fought her without calling for help? Why?"

"Because I could fight her on my own!" Firepaw said, without thinking. "She was on our territory, and it's my duty to defend it, right?"

"Nooooo. It's your duty to stay safe until you're old enough to engage in real combat." Bluestar's stern ice-blue eyes narrowed. "Your courage could easily be mistaken as foolishness. You should have called for Lionheart or one of the more experienced warriors. They could have defeated a healer quickly. You were putting yourself in danger, Firepaw, something you shouldn't do until you are sure in your abilities." Bluestar sighed, shaking her head. "And you're hurt, on top of it. Honestly, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that if that's what it takes to be accepted, I needed to fight." Firepaw answered, staring down at his fists as they clenched on the wooden floor of the cabin. He felt helpless, powerless until Bluestar decreed he was strong. There was nothing he could do until then, it seemed. "I thought that's what everyone else needed me to do. To fight for my Clan and keep them safe... that was what you told me to do, wasn't it?"

Bluestar's eyes softened, and she shook her head. "Not yet, stupid kid. You've got a long way to go. Quit trying to grow up so fast."

"Will you be punishing him?" Lionheart inquired when it became apparent Firepaw wouldn't be responding.

"Mmm, I wouldn't call it a punishment. More like something he'll be doing for my entertainment. Firepaw, you'll be taking care of Yellowfang while she's here. Before you say anything, it's nothing personal, I just think it'll be funny."

"Must you torture all your apprentices, Bluestar-sama?" Lionheart sighed in exasperation.

"Yes!" She grinned, and Graypaw laughed, earning an elbow from Lionheart.

"Best get started, boy. She'll be waking up soon."

* * *

As Firepaw creaked open the door that led into Yellowfang's private cabin, he was immediately smacked over the head with what felt like a huge wooden spoon. Cursing under his breath, he held one hand to the wounded spot on his head and glared up at the gray-haired woman. "What was that for?"

"Knock first!" Yellowfang snapped, slapping the spoon again and again into the palm of her hand. "Honestly, you'd think you ThunderClan cat were taught absolutely no manners, you youngsters running about like hooligans. Raggedstar never would've allowed such a thing, you would all be strapped down and whipped if you showed a fraction of the behavior you did here! I'll whip you all myself if I have to, that should put you in shape, mangy little urchins. Are you listening to me?" She whacked him over the head again. "Now what did you want, Stupidpaw?"

Firepaw stood up slowly, his arms raised in defeat in case she tried to whack him again. "Bluestar-sama just wanted me to check up on you." He explained slowly, as though talking to a very young child. "If you could just lower the spoon, then maybe we could talk in peace? You know, without killing me?"

Eyes narrowed, the elderly woman set the spoon down on the makeshift bed in the corner. "Very well, then." She grumbled, sitting down and gesturing for Firepaw to do the same on the floor. "I don't believe that's all you wanted to ask me about, boy. More likely then not, you have some nosy questions that I shouldn't even bother answering. Just go on, but I sure as well won't hesitate to use that spoon if you get too nosy."

"Alright, then." Firepaw muttered warily, sitting where she directed. There was an awkward silence in which neither looked at eachother, just tried to think of something or another to say. "So..." He finally began. "Why were you outside ShadowClan territory, exactly...?"

"Too nosy!" She whacked him with the spoon.

"Um... okay." He rubbed his head, glaring at the old woman venomously. "How come you're so good at fighting if you're a healer?"

"How come you're so bad at fighting when you're a warrior apprentice?" She retorted. "If you must know, I was a warrior before I became a healer. I was young, only eighteen at the time, when StarClan sent a sign to the healer at that time telling her to take on an apprentice. The same night I had a dream in which I was told to take a different path." Shaking her head, the elderly woman looked off into the distance, lost in thought. "It was never my choice, though I can't say I wish it'd been any different. You can't really argue with StarClan when they tell you to do something."

Firepaw nodded in understanding, a bit of understanding beginning to take root in his mind. She'd been confused about her duties once, as well. She was a lot like him. "Did you ever try to go against your fate?" He asked softly, sensing this was probably a touchy subject but willing to risk another whack with the spoon. "Was there ever anything you did, just to show you wanted your own destiny?"

Her face clouded over for a long moment, and neither party spoke. "Defiance will always be punished." Was all she said. "Remember that, child. Don't make too many stupid mistakes, because they'll come around to bite you and everyone you hold dear. You can't hide from them, though. You will make those mistakes, and you will be hurt by them, but if you turn your back and pretend you did nothing wrong the only thing you'll be doing is delaying the inevitable. The only way out is through everything you're running from."

Before Firepaw could respond, a scream split the air. The sound of pounding feet from outside thundered inside the cabin, and Firepaw leapt to his feet immediately. The door swung open, and Whitestorm appeared, his bow drawn and a quiver of arrows on his back. "Invasion!" He explained swiftly, looking away briefly to aim an arrow to the fray of attackers who were flooding into the camp from all sides. "Take Yellowfang-san and get somewhere safe. Sandpaw-san and Ravenpaw-kun will accompany you. Do you understand me?"

"I can't leave you to fight alone!" Firepaw argued, realizing with a jolt that he recognized some of the attackers from the Gathering. ShadowClan had come. "Yellowfang can fight, as well. I won't stand by!"

"Fine!" Whitestorm snapped, obviously not in any position to put up much of an argument. "Don't take any risks, though." His yellow eyes narrowed to slits as he looked at the apprentice, then Yellowfang. "Stay on the edges of the battle and don't bite off more than you can chew. Dustpaw-kun and Graypaw-kun will fight alongside you." With a single nod, he disapeared, leaving the two behind while the sounds of the battle pounded all around them.

With one last glance at Yellowfang, Firepaw sped out of the door and into the fray. He was immediately overwhelmed by the flashing of metal as swords met in decisive combat and arrows soared over the heads of the enemies. He briefly spotted Sandpaw and Whitestorm perched in a tree, deftly wielding the bows that downed an enemy with every hit. Still they kept coming, flooding the camp that had been peaceful not long ago. Screams and yells of triumph, fear, and pain were all he could hear as he shouldered his way past Runningwind, trying to catch glimpse of a familiar mop of gray hair.

It was then that he spotted the sword, discarded and gleaming on the ground at his feet. He bent down and gripped the well-balanced weapon in both hands, feeling the firm resistence of the leather and watching the silvery gleam trace up and down the edges of the sword. A gaze burned into his back. He wheeled around, just as the massive ShadowClan warrior raised his cleaver-like blade to establish a killing blow. Their blades met with a shower of sparks and the man flinched back, just enough for Firepaw to push forward, breaking the contact between their weapons. His blood boiled in his veins as he raised the blade, bringing it down to slice a gash in the front of the warrior's shirt.

"Doin' pretty well, huh?" Graypaw grinned as he slid up behind Firepaw, backed into him by his own enemy. His breathing was heavy, but his tone was light-hearted and teasing as usual. The two boys stood back-to-back, Firepaw with his sword poised to strike his opponent down, Graypaw with his heavy mace that was ready at any given moment to deal out a crushing blow. "Can't say the same for myself, unfortunantly." Graypaw muttered, his hands tightening on the mace. "I don't know how much longer I can hold out." His golden eyes widened as the woman he'd been fighting charged, her short dagger glimmering. Firepaw whipped around his friend's shoulder, effectively deflecting the woman's blow with the wide blade of his sword.

He just managed to turn around in time, as the man he'd been fighting prepared for his own assault. Again their weapons clashed, but this time Firepaw was off balance. He lurched backward in order to get his footing, giving the man an entrance to overpower him. Sweat beaded on the apprentice's brow as he fought the other's brute strength, unable to keep away the crushing wait. A brown blur whizzed by suddenly, stopping for the slightest moment on top of the ShadowClan warrior's back. Dustpaw was just barely recognizable, looking briefly at Firepaw and Graypaw, before he disappeared from the giant's back and materialized again, just in front of the other apprentices. The man shuddered and fell forward, Firepaw rolling out underneath his blade just in time. Lodged in the back of his neck was a knife.

Dustpaw ripped out the knife, meeting the shocked gaze of the orange-haired apprentice cooly. "He's not dead." He assured him. "Won't be fighting any time soon, though." With that, the brown-haired boy was gone, leaving the others staring at the spot he'd been only a moment before. From then on out, neither Firepaw nor Graypaw had to speak. They fell effortlessly into a simple technique, alternating between jabbing, slashing, and blocking, covering eachother's backs as they fought off each of the opponents that came their way. In no time, the ground around them was stained with blood. A long cut above Graypaw's eye was bleeding profusely, and the wound on Firepaw's chest had reopened and blood was quickly seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

It was when Graypaw finally collapsed to his knees from exhaustion that Firepaw began to feel himself weaken. The entire time he'd been fighting effortlessly, feeling the fire inside him fanned to life by the thrill of the battle. That fire was beginning to sputter as his lungs burned for a rest and his limbs slowly went numb from exhaustion. When finally the flood began to reside, leaving the heavy stench of blood hanging thickly in the air, Firepaw's vision began to blur. As the last enemy before him retreated reluctantly, there was nothing left to support him. He fell to to his hands and knees, gasping for breath. All around him wounded and shocked warriors lay winded as he was, the flames in their own hearts cooled to dying embers. It was the shrill scream of Willowpelt, rising above even the sound of Firepaw's heavy breathing, that nearly stopped his heart completely.

_"Spottedleaf is dead!"_

* * *

**o3o**

**Ima die now, right? /runs**

**No reviewers listings again. XD Sorry guys. Tired and lazy.**

**Um... review? Plzplzplzplzplzplz /shot**


	14. Chapter 13: Dying Bells

**Random Character Info Box**

**Name: Whitestorm**

**Species: Neko**

**Birthday: June 1**

**Age: 49**

**Height: 164 cm (5'5")**

**Weight: 67 kg (147 lbs)**

**Affiliation: ThunderClan**

**Occupation: Senior Warrior**

**Known Family: Bluestar, his aunt. He is married to Frostfur, and has four children: Cinderkit, Brightkit, Thornkit, and Brackenkit.**

**Appearance: Lanky, tanned man with white hair he keeps tied back in a short samurai-style ponytail. He had golden eyes and a wide, inviting grin.**

**Attire: Whitestorm dresses rather casually on most occasions, in comfortable deerskin clothing. He wears squarish glasses, and his weapon of choice is a bow and a quiver of arrows on his back.**

**Personality: Patient, kind, and happy to help with anything happening in the Clan. Whitestorm enjoys teaching children and is the appointed chief of teaching children Clan arts and history. Whitestorm is a dedicated warrior and would protect his Clan at all costs.**

**Theme Song: Fighting by Yellowcard**

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**Honorific Guide**

**-sama: "one of high rank", or in this case, "leader", or "revered"**

**-taichou: "captain", or in this case, "deputy"**

**-san: "adult", formal, used between equals, or as light respect from a younger person, as in 'Mr.' and 'Miss' in the English language. Also can be used between spouses.**

**-chan: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used as an endearing term for one who is thought of as cute or childlike. Also can be used to address a female one shares a strong bond with, whether it be romantic or friendship.**

**-kun: Can be used in two ways. Most commonly used to address one of a junior status, as in a leader addressing a young warrior. Also can be used to address a male one shares a strong bond with, whether it be romantic or friendship.**

**-Senpai: "upperclassman", so can be used in an apprentice addressing a warrior.**

**-Sensei: "teacher", so can be used as an apprentice addressing their mentor.**

**-hoshi: "Buddhist Priest", or in this case, "Healer"**

**Note: When honorifics are not used, it usually means the two know each other well enough to not engage in formalities. Could also be used as a sign of disrespect, if the particular person is of very high rank.**

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Silence greeted the deafening scream. Beside him, Graypaw gasped, but it was an inaudible thing, something that jolted his body and made Firepaw flinch. Or perhaps it did make a noise. He wouldn't know. Blood roared in his ears like a torrent, and his vision swam dangerously. Somebody needed to speak. Something needed to be said. They needed to wake him up, say something, anything, let him know it wasn't true, it couldn't be true... say something... someone, just say something...

"Lionheart is dead, too!"

This time, it wasn't a gasp that came from Graypaw. It was a strangled sort of sob that racked his body and boomed in Firepaw's ears. No. No, that couldn't be true. Both Lionheart and Spottedleaf... it wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. It was a mistake. Spottedleaf would take a look at Lionheart, and he'd be just fine... but what if Spottedleaf wasn't fine, she wouldn't be checking anyone... no, she would be okay...

"Rosetail!"

It was a joke. That's all. A cruel, tasteless joke played by some troubled kid.

The silence was deafening. Nobody even moved, nobody spoke, nobody could breathe. The air was heavy as lead. Like trying to breath through water.

Through the corner of his eye, he saw only one movement. A shambling old figure, making its way across the bloodstained battlefield, hobbling unevenly on gnarled legs. Yellowfang placed her bony hand on one of the boy's shoulders, and he stiffened.

"Come with me, boy." She murmured, helping him to his feet unsteadily. "I will take you to her."

He nodded numbly. He followed her, weaving between the frozen bodies of his Clanmates, limping to the steady beat of his thrumping heartbeat that now felt as though a stake had been driven through it. Shapes and shadows blended in front of him, circling toward him as though attempting to capture him. Once or twice he stumbled blindly, but Yellowfang steadied him with a strong, gentle hand. Within moments, they reached an area just behind the Healer's cabin. The old woman glanced at the boy once, before she lifted the curtain of branches that shielded several of his mourning Clanmates.

He reeled backward, bile rising in his throat too quickly for him to stop it. Crouching beside the cabin, his hands fisting in the dirt beneath him, he wretched violently until he'd emptied the contents of his stomach on to the shifting earth beneath him. Even after the terrible nausea had passed, he sat there, his shoulders quivering and his vision swimming. He started when Yellowfang lay her calloused hand on his arm and helped him to his feet. After earning an encouraging nod, he stumbled forward, into the cool shadows that shielded the young girl's broken body.

Willowpelt, who had first screamed out, looked up silently as he approached. Her tear-streaked face made her seem childish in the gloom, and even the steadfast form of Mousefur beside her seemed shaken to the core. Painfully, Firepaw kneeled in front of the fallen girl. Carefully, he pulled her closer to him and lay her head gently in his lap. With shaking fingers he traced the soft line of her cheek, the curve of her chin, the slight part of her plush lips. Empty amber eyes stared up at him, eery in the way their half-lidded depths seemed almost alive. Though he wanted nothing more than to look away, he forced himself to take in the rest of her body. The grotesque gash that stretched from her navel to her cleavage, a stab wound to her ribcage, and the ragged puncture through her temple. The beautiful woman was merely a shell, beaten and bloodied, never again to look at him with warmth in her bright eyes.

The tears went unnoticed before they dropped silently on to the girl's cheeks. One after another, following each other in succesion as Firepaw wept for the Healer. The flame in his heart had become unbearably painful, scorching him as his love for the dead girl overflowed. There was nothing he could do, then? She was really gone? It wasn't a joke. No, he relented, as he hunched over her, unable to control the sobs that welled in his chest. No, this was real. Everything. Her sweet scent, replaced with the acrid tang of blood. Her steady prescence, now empty and lifeless. Nothing remained of Spottedleaf. Only the soft tinkling of two little silver bells that were strangely reminiscent of her laugh as they were stirred by a breeze.

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"Tonight we mourn the deaths of three of our most treasured friends. Spottedleaf, our dedicated Healer. Rosetail, a brave elder and close friend of mine. And Lionheart, who'd only just began his role as Deputy." Bluestar's voice was solemn as she spoke that night. A strangely chilled air was blowing in from the mountains, bringing with it the tang of crisp springs and wild flowers. In the center of the camp, three coffins lay, laced with hastily picked herbs and flowers. The Clan was gathered around the coffins, looking up at Bluestar where she sat on the Highrock. The stars above them were cold, distant, mocking. Firepaw's head was bowed. He was unable to look at those little points of light, for fear of seeing her face staring down at him from the heavens.

"Though I would rather not rush such things, Moonhigh is approaching fast, and I must now appoint a new Deputy."

Firepaw couldn't help but notice the way Tigerclaw straightened up, as though jolted. Nobody else stirred, unable or unwilling to comprehend what the leader was saying, too lost were they in their grief. Bluestar looked up at the skies for some time, her blue eyes distant as a fresh wind whipped her hair. Her face seemed strangely indecisive, as though she'd given no prior thought to who would lead the Clan after her. Or perhaps she was just second-guessing herself. Both theories were quickly disproved when the leader let out a sigh and her gaze fell on Tigerclaw. "I say these words before the body of Lionheart so he may hear and approve my choice. Tigerclaw will be the new Deputy of ThunderClan."

Several despondant cheers of "Tigerclaw, Tigerclaw!" emerged from the Clan, the loudest of which coming from Darkstripe and Longtail. Nobody else seemed particularly interested, though some gave short words of congratulations or gave the tall man a pat on the shoulder. His face betrayed no emotion, though he nodded and accepted the praise.

"Please be on the lookout for four lost children, by the way." Bluestar added, after Whitestorm gave her a pointed glance. "They're probably just wandering around somewhere, but Whitey-chan insists they must've gotten into trouble. Just bring them back if you see them." She looked at the esembled Elders, and sighed deafeatedly. "Alright. It is time for the Elders to bury the fallen, so please pay your last respects. Oh, and Firepaw... please come see me after you're done with that."

Murmurs broke out as, one after another, the Clan lined up to say their final goodbyes to their comrades. At this point, Firepaw felt too sick to lay eyes on the bodies again, so he simply turned away with a soft murmur of "Goodbye, Spottedleaf." Silently, he peeled off from the crowd and made his way over to Bluestar, who took him by the hand and lead him to her cabin. She opened the door, and together the two entered the cool darkness. She lit a single candle made of bee wax and set it down on the floor before gesturing for Firepaw to sit down on a pillow. She sat opposite him, staring at the small, flickering flame for a moment before speaking. "How much do you know about your father, Firepaw?"

Firepaw stiffened for a moment, but forced himself to relax. "Not much, I suppose." He muttered.

"Did you know he lived for a time in this Clan, just as you are now?"

His head snapped up, and his eyes widened. No, he hadn't known that. He never would have guessed that- well, how could he gave not seen it? The necklace he wore, even now, was the ThunderClan warriors' emblem. Of course he'd known all along that there was a connection, but that his father had actually lived with this Clan before he had... it was remarkable. "I didn't, no."

"Might as well start at the beginning." Bluestar sighed. "Your father and your stepmother... what was her name, Quince?" She waited for a moment, and when Firepaw nodded, she continued. "They had an arranged marriage. They were from very noble families that wanted to be associated with one another as soon as possible, and so the two were married when they were only thirteen years old." For a moment, a smirk tugged at her lips. "Well, I can certainly sympathize with what happened next. Three children in the course of three years. Marry two thirteen year olds, and suddenly they have no restrictions... well, what are they gonna do? Wait till they're eighteen?"

Sensing this conversation was entering dangerous territory, Firepaw blushed and cleared his throat loudly. "So, um... what happened after that?"

"Oh, right. Well, understandably, Jake became rather fed up with all the noble nonsense. He loved Quince, that much I can tell you. It was easy to tell when he spoke to me. But he yearned freedom, the way you do. So he ran into the woods. Found a cute girl here in ThunderClan. She gave birth to their daughter, Priscilla. Then to you."

Firepaw blinked. So... he was half-Neko? And so was Priscilla?

"Your mother died soon afterward in a battle. Jake went back to your world, where he raised you and your sister. I assume he died, or else you wouldn't be here, seeking that necklace's memories."

"Memories? A necklace?"

"Pretty much. I don't get it either, so don't ask. Just thought it'd sound cool."

"...So it's not true?"

"Yup, it's true. I just don't know what I'm talking about."

Before Firepaw could voice his confusion, turmoil from outside interrupted him. He picked out several voices, and tuned in carefully.

"Yellowfang is gone! She... she must have stolen my children!"

Bluestar glared at Firepaw dangerously. "Stupid kid. I told you to watch her. You'd fail as a slave, you know that?""

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**I was gone for a long, long time. I'm back now though, so no worries, eh? /shot /bricked /killed /dies**

**Reviewers: CyilEib, Lunara the ara, Ivypool Luva, winterthaw of thunderclan, Scarheart of DarkClan, Sparkheart of ThunderClan, Echosky of ForestClan, Nightkill, Sdr82561. Thank you!**

**Guys, quit freaking complaining about the Japanese stuff. I realize it was stupid to add, but this was during my whole weaboo-stage. Besides, it fits the Clans' lifestyle, so stop whining. **

**Review? o3o**


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